i  ;  |! 


if 


; 


Ill 


SERMONS  ADDRESSED  TO  INDIVIDUALS 


SERMONS 
ADDRESSED 
TO 
INDIVIDUALS 


BY 

REGINALD  J.  CAMPBELL 

MINISTER  OF  THE  CITY  TEMPLE 
LONDON 


NEW  YORK 

A.  C.  ARMSTRONG  &  SON 

3  AND  5  WEST  18™  STREET,  NEAR  5™  AVENUE 
1905 


Copyright,  1904,  by 
A.  C.  ARMSTRONG  &  SON 


Published,  December ,  1904 


THE  AUTHOR'S  PREFACE 

IT  is  often  asserted  that  sermons  as  a  rule  make 
very  poor  reading.  Somehow  they  seem  to  lose 
their  human  interest  when  they  pass  into  the 
printed  page  and  the  personality  of  the  preacher 
is  withdrawn.  Such,  of  course,  is  not  always  the 
case,  as  the  sermons  of  Spurgeon,  Phillips  Brooks, 
and  Robertson  of  Brighton  clearly  testify;  but  it 
must  be  admitted  that  these  are  the  exception,  not 
the  rule.  Most  sermonic  literature  is  dry  reading, 
or  if  it  be  the  reported  verbatim  utterance  of  the 
preacher — and  this  is  not  literature — the  colloquial- 
isms and  direct  style  of  address  have  a  tendency  to 
become  irritating  to  the  reader.  This  tendency  is 
especially  noticeable  if  reported  sermons  are  issued 
in  permanent  form. 

With  these  considerations  in  view  something  in 
the  nature  of  an  experiment  is  being  attempted  in 
the  issue  of  the  present  volume.  The  sermons 
included  herein  are  not  literature,  they  are  ex- 
tempore speech;  they  are  face  to  face  teaching 
and  exhortation  addressed  to  an  audience  which, 
at  the  time,  and  to  the  preacher,  consisted  as  it 
were  of  but  one  individual.  They  are  human 
documents  called  forth  by  living  human  experiences. 


2203386 


vi  PREFACE 

Every  one  of  these  sermons  came  into  existence 
because  some  one  asked  for  it  or  some  life  story 
suggested  it.  It  is  the  preacher's  conviction  that 
in  this  way  the  Holy  Spirit  breathed  upon  the 
word.  Every  sermon  bore  fruit  in  blessing  re- 
ceived and  acknowledged.  They  are  now  sent 
forth  upon  a  further  mission,  and  in  the  hope  that 
some  who  read  them  may  be  helped  thereby.  A 
short  account  of  the  origin  of  each  is  prefixed  to 
every  text.  By  this  method,  perhaps,  readers  who 
might  otherwise  fail  to  grasp  their  true  significance 
may  enter  in  some  degree  the  mental  atmosphere 
breathed  by  the  congregation  which  heard  them. 
In  no  other  respect  have  they  been  altered.  They 
are  mere  transcripts  of  the  oral  delivery,  and,  as 
such,  must  be  their  own  justification. 

That  they  may  be  used  again  to  our  Saviour's 
greater  glory  is  the  author's  prayer. 


I 

QUO  VADIS? I 

II 
THE  DEATH-SONG  OF  JESUS  .  .  .  .          21 

III 
THE  WINDOWS  OPEN  TOWARDS  JERUSALEM  .  .  35 

IV 
THE  MISUSE  OF  DIVINE  POWER   .  .  .  .          49 

V 
A  FORFEITED  GIFT   .  .....          71 

VI 
THE  WAY  THROUGH  THE  FLOOD  ...          87 

VII 

SOME  GREAT  THING  .  .  .  .  .105 

VIII 
ETERNAL  PUNISHMENT  AND  ETERNAL  LIFE  .         1*7 

IX 

THE  LAW  OF  RETRIBUTION  .  .  .  .149 

vii 


viii  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

X 

THE  HIGHEST  SELF-OFFERING       .  .  .  .169 

XI 
THIRSTING  FOR  THE  WATER  OF  LIFE    .  .  .189 

XII 

BURNING— UNCONSUMED     .....        205 

XIII 
SIN'S  SELF-DISCOVERY  .....         225 

XIV 
A  CAKE  OF  BARLEY  BREAD  .  .241 

XV 
A  SINFUL  GOD 257 

XVI 

THE  AGNOSTICISM  OF  JESUS  .  .  .  .275 

XVII 
ONENESS  WITH  GOD  .....        295 

XVIII 
INWARD  TRUTH          *  .  .  .  .  .313 


QUO  VADIS? 


IT  is  my  custom  to  remain  at  the  City  Temple  on  Thursday 
afternoons  in  order  to  see  and  converse  with  such  callers  as  may 
wish  for  a  private  interview.  This  is  almost  the  only  way  in 
which  pastoral  work  is  possible  to  me,  unless  my  correspondence 
column  in  the  British  Weekly  can  be  accounted  pastoral  work. 
The  geographical  situation  of  the  church  is  such,  and  the  distances 
from  which  members  come  lie  so  widely  apart,  that  anything  like 
ordinary  pastoral  visitation  is  out  of  the  question.  But  there  are 
some  compensations  in  this  fact.  One  of  them  undoubtedly  is  that 
in  the  face  to  face  and  heart  to  heart  conversations  in  the  vestry, 
minister  and  caller  get  to  understand  each  other  without  much 
waste  of  time.  Few  will  take  the  trouble  to  come  unless  they 
have  some  serious  purpose  in  doing  so :  there  are  no  preliminaries 
to  be  got  over;  no  apologies  for  introducing  religious  matters;  no 
false  assumptions  about  the  conventionalities  of  the  occasion;  we 
can  go  at  once  to  the  point. 

Through  this  method  I  have  learned  much.  So  far  as  one  is 
able  to  judge,  God  has  blessed  it  more  obviously  than  the  pulpit 
work  out  of  which  it  grew.  This  may  not  be  so  in  reality,  but 
the  results  are  more  easily  estimated,  and  the  personal  relations 
established  are  of  a  more  sacred  character. 

The  following  sermon  was  preached  on  a  Thursday  morning 
in  1903 ;  it  grew  out  of  some  meditation  on  certain  tendencies  of 
the  time  and  the  contradictory  advice  given  as  to  the  proper  way 
to  deal  with  them.  Dr  Josiah  Strong's  work  was  beginning  to 
be  discussed.  Dr  Watson  and  others  were  reiterating  with 
emphasis  that  the  Church  must  adjust  herself  to  a  new  situation 
and  new  problems.  Mr  Hall  Caine  had  been  arousing  the  en- 
thusiasm of  an  audience  of  social  workers  by  his  criticism  of  the 
supineness  of  organised  Christianity.  Not  more  than  usual,  per- 
haps, were  such  speeches  being  made,  but  more  of  them  had  come 
my  way.  I  was  of  opinion  then,  as  I  am  now,  that  vague  charges 

3 


against  the  churches  would  do  but  little  to  solve  the  great  prob- 
lem of  the  social  needs  of  the  hour.  Outsiders  taunt  the  churches 
with  their  failure,  and  the  churches  themselves  are  in  the  mood 
to  acknowledge  it.  Where  then  is  the  mischief?  Preachers  and 
Christian  workers  are  quite  ready  to  be  shown  what  to  do  if 
anyone  with  clear  vision  can  point  out  the  way.  My  own  view 
is  that  this  new  susceptibility  which  the  churches  are  exhibiting 
towards  a  longing  for  a  better  and  a  healthier  religious  life  marks 
the  beginning  of  a  better  day.  In  fact  it  is  the  Word  of  the  Lord 
for  us  at  this  moment,  but  our  answer  to  His  call  must  be  an 
individual  one.  We  are  enquiring  what  the  Lord  means  us  to 
do  for  this  generation.  Are  we  prepared  individually  to  do  the 
one  thing,  whatever  it  may  be,  which  He  reveals  to  us  as  the 
answer  to  our  prayer? 

I  remember  saying  this  to  two  gentlemen  who  repeated  in  my 
hearing,  and  that  of  the  deacons,  on  the  previous  Sunday,  some 
of  the  criticisms  of  the  churches  hinted  at  above.  They  had  been 
struck  with  the  possibilities  of  the  City  Temple  if  the  congrega- 
tion were  to  act  together  as  one  great  organised  force.  "What 
are  you  doing  yourselves?"  I  replied.  "Christ  never  waits  for 
organisations." 

The  situation  here  described  was  paralleled  in  the  Upper  Room, 
and  in  the  profound  moral  significance  of  our  Lord's  repetition 
of  the  disciples'  question,  "Whither  goest  Thou?" 


"Now  I  go  My  way  to  Him  that  sent  Me,  and  none  of  you 
asketh  Me,  Whither  goest  Thou?" — JOHN  xvi.  5. 

THESE  strange  words  fell  from  the  lips  of  our 
Master  almost  as  a  kind  of  interruption  or  aside  in 
the  course  of  His  valedictory  address  in  the  upper 
room;  yet  they  are  full  of  luminous  suggestion. 
Their  true  relevance  is  only  seen  when  we  call  to 
mind  the  circumstances  under  which  they  were 
spoken.  In  order  to  make  clear  what  those  circum- 
stances were,  I  will  read  three  extracts  from  this 
wonderful  part  of  the  New  Testament,  St  John's 
Gospel.  The  question,  "Whither  goest  thou?" 
was  put  to  our  Lord  at  least  twice  before  He 
uttered  the  words  which  form  our  text.  On  the 
first  occasion,  the  question  came  from  the  lips  of 
Simon  Peter:  "Lord,  whither  goest  Thou?"  (John 
xii.  36).  On  the  second  occasion,  the  question  was 
put  to  him  inferentially  by  Thomas  the  Doubter; 
the  remonstrance  of  the  Apostle  was  couched  in 
this  phrase:  "Lord,  we  know  not  whither  Thou 
goest;  and  how  can  we  know  the  way?"  (John 
xiv.  5).  How,  then,  could  our  Master,  after  these 
two  interrogations,  say  to  the  same  group  of  men, 
and  on  the  same  occasion,  "None  of  you  asketh 
Me,  Whither  goest  Thou?"  They  had  asked  Him 
twice,  and  on  neither  occasion  had  He  satisfied  their 


6  QUO  VADIS 

questioning.  I  take  it  that  the  explanation  is  this. 
Our  Lord  had  something  of  solemn  import  to  say 
to  the  disciples  in  the  upper  room,  and  they  were 
not  prepared  to  hear  it — perhaps  not  so  much 
prepared  as  He  had  a  right  to  expect.  In  that 
tender  ejaculation,  "I  have  many  things  to  say  unto 
you,  but  ye  cannot  bear  them  now,"  I  catch  a  tone 
of  rebuke.  They  were  not  in  the  mood  to  listen, 
their  thoughts  were  earth-bound,  and  even  their 
love  of  their  Master  robbed  them  at  this  moment 
of  the  true  spiritual  perspective  which  He  wished 
them  to  attain  unto.  For  our  Lord's  eye  was  fixed 
upon  the  glory  that  was  to  be;  for  the  joy  that  was 
set  before  Him  He  already  in  anticipation  had  en- 
dured the  Cross  and  despised  the  shame,  and  was 
set  down  at  the  right  hand  of  the  Majesty  on  high. 
Our  Lord  was  looking  past  Gethsemane,  beyond 
Pilate's  hall,  past  Calvary's  hill,  past  even  the  tomb 
and  the  Resurrection  morning.  He  was  looking  to 
the  glory  land  and  to  that  wider  ministry  which  He 
is  exercising  in  our  midst  to-day.  "I  go  My  way 
unto  Him  that  sent  Me,  and  it  is  expedient  for  you 
that  I  go  away."  But  is  it  wonderful  that  the 
Apostles  could  not  share  in  this  magnificent  vision 
that  the  Master  was  taking  at  this  moment?  He 
was  compelled  to  pause,  for  their  questionings  were 
missing  the  mark  every  time  that  they  were  made. 
In  the  first  instance  He  announced  His  approaching 
departure,  but  Peter,  confused  at  the  thought  of 
the  ministry  which  was  now,  as  he  thought,  reach- 


QUO  VADIS  7 

ing  its  zenith  of  success  from  an  earthly  point  of 
view,  interposes  the  question,  "Now,  Master,  where 
are  You  going?  Is  it  to  Samaria?  Is  it  to  Rome? 
Are  You  going  to  repeat  there  the  triumphs  of  the 
Galilean  ministry?  Shall  we  see  a  crowd  welcoming 
the  Jewish  Messiah,  even  into  the  imperial  city, 
with  hosannas,  just  as  to-day  You  have  been 
welcomed  into  Jerusalem?  Whither  goest  thou, 
Master?  Let  us  go  and  share  in  the  success  and 
the  glory  too."  This  was  not  altogether  a  selfish 
proposition,  either,  for  Peter  really  did  love  his 
Master,  but  the  full  significance  of  his  Master's 
work  he  had  yet  to  learn. 

The  gloomier  doubter,  when,  little  by  little,  our 
Lord  returned  to  the  solemnity  of  the  real  farewell 
that  He  was  about  to  speak,  voices  the  puzzled  feeling 
of  the  disciples  in  the  expostulation :  "Lord,  we  know 
not  whither  thou  goest ;  we  should  be  glad  to  go  with 
you,  but  we  do  not  know  the  way."  How  much 
clearer  would  it  become — perhaps  not  much — to  his 
puzzled  intellect,  when  the  Master  replied :  "I  am  the 
Way  and  the  Truth  and  the  Life.  No  man  cometh 
unto  the  Father  but  by  Me.  I  go  My  way  unto  Him 
that  sent  Me?"  This  stopped  their  questioning; 
they  did  not  wish  to  hear  the  word  of  farewell,  and 
it  gradually  became  clear  to  them  that  the  Master 
was  really  going.  This  was  the  end  of  the  earthly 
ministry;  no  more  teaching  upon  the  hillsides  of 
Galilee,  no  more  crowds — thousands  strong — press- 
ing upon  Him  to  hear  His  words;  no  more  brief 


8  QUO  VADIS 

authority  for  these  disciples ;  and,  above  all,  what  was 
to  become  of  the  Messianic  kingdom  in  which  they 
had  expected  to  play  so  august  a  part?  It  was  all 
coming  to  an  end.  Hence  the  questioning  stopped,  too. 
This  good-bye  is  not  temporary,  it  is  final;  there 
is  not  a  new  ministry  to  be  commenced  in  Samaria 
or  in  Rome;  Jesus  is  withdrawing  Himself  from  the 
gaze  of  men.  If  there  is  to  be  a  ministry  it  is  no 
longer  to  be  a  visible  ministry;  and  all  of  a  sudden 
it  came  to  these  simple  Galileans  that  the  world 
would  be  a  blank  to  them  without  Christ;  they 
ceased  questioning,  for  sorrow  had  filled  their 
hearts.  Now,  you  see — shall  I  call  it? — the 
psychology  of  the  situation.  The  Master,  with 
His  tender  smile,  looked  upon  the  men  who  had 
eagerly  offered  themselves  a  few  minutes  before, 
questioning  where  He  was  going,  that  they  might 
accompany  Him.  "Lord,  why  cannot  I  follow  Thee 
now?  I  will  lay  down  my  life  for  Thy  sake."  The 
answer,  in  effect,  was,  "You  are  not  ready;  before 
the  cock  crow  thou  shalt  thrice  deny  that  thou 
knewest  Me."  When  it  came  to  the  real  good- 
bye, and  they  felt  that  the  Jesus  they  had  known 
and  loved  and  followed  was  to  be  removed  from 
them,  is  it  any  wonder  that  their  self-offering  and 
their  affectionate  questioning  came  to  an  end? 
"Why  don't  you  go  on  with  your  questioning? 
Twice  you  have  asked  Me  whither  I  am  going; 
now  when  I  make  it  clear  that  I  go  My  way  unto 
Him  that  sent  Me,  the  questioning  has  stopped; 


QUO  VADIS  9 

none  of  you  asketh  Me,  Whither  goest  Thou?  And 
yet  this,  if  you  could  only  see  it,  is  the  best  news 
that  I  have  spoken  to  you  this  night.  It  is  ex- 
pedient for  you  that  I  go  away.  The  ministry  has 
not  come  to  an  end;  it  is  only  beginning.  The 
Christ  is  to  reign:  have  you  faith  enough  to  come 
with  Me  through  the  darkness?  There  is  a  glory 
dawning;  by-and-bye  the  Comforter  is  coming; 
the  Christ  shall  be  lifted  up,  and  all  men  shall  be 
drawn  unto  Him.  And  ye  are  My  witnesses;  for 
ye  have  been  with  Me  from  the  beginning."  If 
these  simple  men  had  only  known  it,  now  was 
their  opportunity.  Their  questionings  were  missing 
the  mark,  they  had  not  realised  what  the  Master 
said,  and  He  was  telling  them  in  this  moment  of 
farewell  of  a  coming  nearness,  transcending  anything 
ever  yet  known  of  their  earthly  Master  in  His 
Galilean  days. 

I  want  to  apply  the  words  very  intimately  and 
specially  to  your  case  and  mine.  Spoken  nineteen 
hundred  years  ago,  they  have  as  fresh  a  significance 
to-day  as  when  Peter  and  Thomas  first  heard  them. 
He  who  spake  them  is  gone;  there  is  no  Jesus 
here;  taken  by  wicked  hands  and  crucified  and 
slain,  He  no  longer  lives  to  walk  and  work  amongst 
men.  Those  who  heard  Him  have  gone;  the 
body  of  St  Peter  has  long  mouldered  into  dust. 
Who  can  say  what  has  become  of  Thomas  the 
Doubter?  The  men  who  played  the  hero  for 
Christ  in  the  first  ages  of  the  Church,  those  who 


io  QUO  VADIS 

saw  Him  in  the  flesh  and  heard  these  precious 
sayings  fall  from  His  lips,  have  all  passed  to  their 
reward,  and  now,  if  these  words  have  any  significance 
at  all,  it  is  not  for  them,  it  is  for  you  and  for  me. 
Though  the  Christ  is  gone,  the  spirit  of  the  Christ 
remains.  I  do  not  wish  you  to  understand  that 
word  in  any  vague  or  unreal  sense.  Some  of  the 
men  to  whom  I  speak  have  a  very  feeble  faith 
in  my  Lord,  and  I  would  like  to  take  you  with 
me  every  step  that  I  go  when  I  repeat  His  words. 
How  much  could  you  say  with  assurance  about 
Jesus  Christ?  Where  is  He,  who  is  He?  About 
the  latter  of  those  two  questions  we  have  wasted 
a  great  deal  of  time.  I  will  ask  you  to  follow  me 
in  a  series  of  hypotheses.  Where  is  the  Christ? 
Grant  me  two  things,  and  I  will  tell  you.  First, 
I  want  you  to  say,  with  Matthew  Arnold,  "There 
is  an  Eternal,  not  ourselves,  which  makes  for 
righteousness."  Now,  my  brethren  of  the  City 
offices,  the  strenuous  life  of  this  vast  Metropolis, 
representative  as  you  are  of  the  typical  life  of 
England,  can  you  say  that?  You  are  sure  from 
the  bottom  of  your  heart  that  there  is,  though 
you  cannot  prove  it,  an  Eternal,  not  ourselves,  which 
makes  for  righteousness.  You  would  say  that 
much?  Take  another  step,  which  is  but  the  same 
proposition,  and  affirm  with  the  Victorian  poet, 

"  To  feel,  although  no  tongue  can  prove, 
That  every  cloud  that  spreads  above, 
And  veileth  love,  itself  is  love." 


QUO  VADIS  ii 

Say  this  also.  Our  life  has  a  significance  far  beyond 
our  present  apprehension  of  it,  and  every  life  has 
value  for  God.  We  have  an  immortal  destiny. 

"  Life   is   real,   life   is   earnest, 

And  the  grave  is  not  its  goal, 

'  Dust  thou  art,  to  dust  returnest,' 

Was  not  spoken  of  the  soul." 

You  may  think  very  little  about  the  world's  to- 
morrow, and  you  may  be  far  more  concerned  about 
your  own  to-day  than  you  may  be  about  any  after 
death,  but  while  you  affirm  with  me  those  two 
things — there  is  a  Righteousness  enthroned  some- 
where, and  there  is  a  better  day  for  you  and  me — 
if  you  can  only  say  that  much,  you  have  already 
come  to  close  quarters  with  the  Christ.  It  is  a 
marvellous  thing  that  every  time  a  man  proceeds 
to  ask  any  question  concerning  the  fundamentals  of 
his  own  being  and  destiny  he  is  at  grips  with  Jesus. 
It  is  impossible  that  it  should  be  otherwise.  We 
have  identified — or  if  you  won't  pass  that  word, 
let  us  say  associated — Jesus  with  the  Eternal  that 
makes  for  righteousness,  and  if  there  is  a  deathless 
life  for  any,  then  Jesus,  whoever  He  may  be,  is 
alive  somewhere.  Now,  supposing  it  is  Jesus  the 
Carpenter,  and  only  He,  who  lives  somewhere,  it  is 
a  question  of  the  gravest  import  for  you  and  me 
what  that  Christ  is  thinking  about  this  world,  and 
how  much  He  can  do  to  affect  our  destiny.  Only 
suppose  that  He  happens  to  be  the  director  of  that 
destiny,  can  you  think  of  any  question  so  important, 


12  QUO  VADIS 

so  urgent,  as  this,  Where  is  the  Christ  leading  His 
own  ?  Whither  goest  Thou,  my  Lord  ? 

I  have  brought  into  the  pulpit  with  me  a  book, 
written  on  a  subject  that  does  not  concern  us  for  a 
moment;  it  is  not  a  religious  book,  unless,  perhaps, 
very  indirectly,  but  a  book  on  a  scientific  subject, 
and  I  take  from  it  this  sentence : 

"There  is  nothing  to  hinder  the  reverent  faith  that,  though  we 
be  all  children  of  the  Most  Highest,  He  came  nearer  than  we, 
by  some  space  to  us  immeasurable,  to  that  which  is  infinitely  far." 

I  am  not  going  to  ask  any  man  here  for  any  more 
theology  than  that  "He  stands  nearer,  by  some 
space  to  us  immeasurable,  to  that  which  is  infinitely 
far."  Now  suppose — I  am  going  on  with  my 
hypotheses — suppose,  instead  of  Jesus,  I  was  talking 
about  your  father  or  mother  or  child  who  had  passed 
into  the  unseen  and  to  the  Eternal  that  makes  for 
righteousness ;  if  your  father  is  really  there,  if  the 
grave  does  not  hold  him,  if  your  mother's  lips  have 
not  been  silenced  for  evermore,  your  father  is 
thinking  and  your  mother  is  praying  about  you. 
You  cannot  imagine  them  to  be  changed;  the  child 
has  not  forgotten  the  love  that  you  once  gave,  and 
the  parents  can  never  forget  the  solicitude  they 
once  showed  for  you  who  are  bone  of  their  bone, 
flesh  of  their  flesh.  Now  suppose — only  suppose — 
that  the  Christ  who  once  taught  in  Galilee,  the 
Christ  who  gathered  this  little  circle  of  men  round 
Him  in  that  upper  room,  even  if  He  be  only  Jesus 


QUO  VADIS  13 

the  Carpenter,  has  gone  into  the  unseen  with  the 
same  spirit  that  He  showed  in  the  days  of  old,  with 
the  same  deathless  love,  with  the  same  yearning 
solicitude  to  save  men;  does  it  matter,  or  does  it 
not,  what  this  Man,  whose  name  is  lifted  above  all 
the  names  that  are  in  the  earth,  is  thinking  and 
doing  about  this  world?  I  cannot  stop  here;  some- 
thing impels  me  to  take  the  last  step,  for  faith 
urges  me  to  say:  He  is  thinking  and  He  is  doing. 
His  is  the  name  above  every  name,  that  to  which 
every  knee  shall  bow,  and  every  tongue  shall  con- 
fess Christ  Jesus  as  Lord.  He  is  the  Master  of  our 
fate,  the  Lord  of  life  and  death.  Now  what  is 
Jesus  doing?  To  the  question  that  stands  before 
all  other  questions,  "Lord,  whither  leadest  Thou?" 
the  signs  of  the  times  ought  to  afford  us  the  answer. 
It  is  never  easy  for  a  man  to  estimate  the  conditions 
of  his  own  day;  we  are  too  near  to  the  facts.  For 
instance,  I  think  it  is  most  likely  that  Mr  Cham- 
berlain will  loom  larger  in  the  estimate  of  posterity, 
possibly,  than  in  that  of  this  day  and  generation. 
We  did  not  know  how  great  Mr  Gladstone  was 
until  we  came  to  think  of  him  as  a  figure  in  history; 
now  we  are  getting  a  right  perspective  as  we  look 
back.  But  the  perspective  is  not  easy  to  get  when 
we  stand  in  the  midst  of  big  events.  It  is  not  easy 
to  estimate,  then,  the  signs  of  the  times,  but  per- 
haps a  good  way  of  trying  to  discover  the  prevailing 
mood  of  our  own  time  is  to  look  back  a  little  while 
and  see  how  it  compares  with  that  which  is  past. 


14  QUO  VADIS 

In  the  middle  of  the  last  century  England  was  in 
a  temper  somewhat  different  from  the  temper  which 
she  exhibits  to-day.  In  1846  the  Corn  Laws  had 
just  been  abolished,  and  from  that  moment  a  new 
era  of  hopefulness  and  prosperity  dawned  for  our 
historic  nation.  Not  this  country  only,  but  other 
countries,  shared  in  the  buoyancy  of  spirit  which 
came  like  the  dawning  of  the  morning  to  a  weary 
world.  France  took  a  step  forward  in  the  inaugura- 
tion of  a  new  Constitution;  nationalities  in  Europe 
were  struggling  into  political  liberty;  young  Italy 
was  looking  to  this  country  as  an  example;  and  we 
— what  were  we  doing?  Albert  the  Good  was 
just  inaugurating  that  first  experiment  in  inter- 
national friendly  competition  and  goodwill — the  Great 
Exhibition  of  1851.  The  other  day  a  man,  who 
was  then  in  early  manhood,  told  me  that,  speaking 
for  his  contemporaries,  he  could  say  men  were  filled 
with  hopefulness;  they  felt  the  golden  age  was 
just  at  hand.  Moreover,  there  was  a  great  con- 
fidence in  the  future  of  our  own  country;  men, 
praying  for  an  era  of  peace,  thought  of  England 
as  being  the  leader  and  the  guide  of  the  civilisation 
of  the  world.  A  good  spirit  was  abroad,  a  hopeful 
spirit,  one  of  alertness,  buoyancy,  confidence.  What 
became  of  it?  In  1854  we  had  the  Crimean  War 
— a  blunder;  worse  than  a  blunder,  a  crime,  as  we 
have  now  discovered;  in  1857  we  had  the  Indian 
Mutiny;  in  1870  the  Franco-German  War,  and  in 
1878  the  Russo-Turkish  War,  with  its  long  legacy  of 


QUO  VADIS  15 

atrocities.  All  our  hopes  have  been  damped.  The 
education  of  the  people  has  not  wrought  the  results 
that  were  expected.  The  'buoyancy  and  confidence 
that  existed  in  this  country  in  1848  appear  to  have 
crossed  the  ocean,  and  are  now  the  characteristic 
of  our  cousins  in  America.  A  certain  misgiving-, 
apparently,  is  in  the  minds  of  some  of  the  best 
men  to-day,  that  perhaps  we  are  witnessing  the 
beginnings  of  national  decay.  In  religion,  what  do 
we  see?  The  Rev.  Frank  Ballard  states  it  as  his 
opinion  that  the  vast  mass  of  the  workers  amongst 
our  fellow-countrymen  are  being  increasingly  alien- 
ated from  the  Church.  He  says  it  is  not  definite 
hostility  so  much  as  indifference  and  contempt  which 
they  show  to  us  and  to  our  methods.  If  we  have 
lost  the  note  of  confidence  and  hopefulness,  that 
verve,  that  glamour  of  enthusiasm  which  has  again 
and  again  in  the  history  of  the  world  swept  over 
the  people  that  were  making  history,  we  must  get 
it  back.  For,  be  assured  no  nation  can  long  stand 
which  ceases  to  believe  in  her  mission.  England 
has  had  something  to  do  for  God — may  it  be  that 
the  churches  are  asking  the  wrong  questions  of 
their  Master  to-day,  and  failing  to  read  Him  in  the 
signs  of  the  times?  Christ  has  to  do,  not  now  and 
then,  but  all  the  time,  with  the  making  of  history 
for  He  is  the  Master  of  the  destiny  of  nations  as 
of  individuals,  and  He  rides  on  the  whirlwind  and 
directs  the  storm.  If  we  can  read  the  signs  of  the 
times  aright,  we  hear  our  Master's  call  from  out  the 


16  QUO  VADIS 

midst  of  the  conditions  of  our  own  day,  "This  do 
and  thou  shalt  live." 

What  shall  we  do?  There  are  many  amongst  us 
anticipating  an  evangelical  revival,  a  great  stirring 
of  the  religion  which  is  ineradicably  present  in  the 
hearts  of  men  in  all  ages.  What  form  will  this 
revival  take?  On  one  hand,  we  hear  one  thing, 
and  on  another,  another.  Sometimes  the  Church 
is  blamed  for  her  slackness  in  the  preaching  of  the 
old  evangel;  sometimes  she  is  blamed  in  that  she 
has  not  succeeded  in  getting  the  ear  of  the  masses 
as  her  Master  did  by  adapting  her  message  to  their 
needs.  An  article  was  put  into  my  hands  only  five 
minutes  before  I  came  into  the  pulpit,  curiously 
enough,  written  upon  the  very  theme  upon  which 
I  am  addressing  you — What  form  the  next  revival 
will  take.  There  will  be  one,  of  that  you  may  be 
perfectly  sure,  Church  or  no  Church.  Peter  and 
Thomas  in  this  chapter  are  asking  the  right  ques- 
tion, it  may  be,  "Lord,  whither  goest  Thou?" 
and  were  almost  ready  with  the  answer:  "To 
Samaria  or  to  Rome — to  this  shibboleth,  or  to  that; 
Lord,  we  are  prepared  to  accompany  you,  and  to 
repeat  them  as  we  have  always  done."  And  the 
Master's  answer  may  be  coming  now  as  it  came  to 
them,  "Because  I  have  said  these  things,  sorrow 
has  filled  your  heart."  Before  I  read  the  article  I 
am  about  to  quote,  let  me  take  you  back  to  John 
xvi.,  and  see  why  it  was  that  sorrow  had  filled  their 
hearts — partly  because  the  Master  was  going,  but 


QUO  VADIS  17 

partly  because  the  glory  was  going  with  Him.  Peter 
had  just  been  sharing  in  the  hosannas;  he  wanted 
more,  and  this  is  what  he  received: — "The  time 
shall  come  when  he  that  killeth  you  will  think  that 
he  is  doing  a  service  unto  God.  These  things  have 
I  told  you,  that  when  the  time  shall  come  you  may  re- 
member that  I  told  you  of  them.  But  because  I  have 
said  these  things" — not  only  that  He  was  going, 
but  that  something  else  was  coming,  a  strenuous 
time,  a  time  of  trial — sorrow  had  filled  their  hearts. 
Peter  was  ready  for  the  Mount  of  Transfiguration, 
ready  for  the  hosannas  and  the  palm-branches,  but 
he  was  not  yet  ready  for  the  Cross.  Yet  the  time 
did  come  when  Peter  was  ready  to  testify,  suffer, 
and  die,  for  his  Lord. 

Now,  supposing  Peter  were  here  to-day  to  put 
the  question  to  the  Master,  "Lord  whither  goest 
Thou?" — for  where  He  is  I  must  go;  help  me  to 
fulfill  the  destiny  which  Christ  has  declared  to  the 
generation  in  which  I  was  born.  The  answer  is 
this.  "There  will  be  a  revival,"  says  Dr  Watson, 
better  known  as  Ian  Maclaren. 

"When  God  is  pleased  to  send  His  new  Prophet,  one  expects 
that  he  will  preach  the  Gospel  of  social  deliverance;  that  the 
white  female  slaves  who  sew  from  morning  till  night,  and  half 
through  the  night,  and  hardly  get  the  wherewithal  to  keep  soul 
and  body  together,  should  be  delivered  from  their  bondage,  that 
every  labourer  who  is  willing  and  temperate  should  have  his 
living  wage  wherewith  to  keep  himself  and  his  family,  that  every 
citizen  of  England,  however  humble,  should  have  his  own  little 
home  wherein  to  live  in  peace  and  comfort,  that  the  countryman 

B 


i8  QUO  VADIS 

should  not  be  evicted  from  the  land  to  make  room  for  wild 
animals  and  rich  men's  sport,  that  the  owners  of  insanitary  prop- 
erty should  be  punished  and  not  compensated,  that  temptations 
should  not  be  placed  at  every  street  corner  in  the  way  of  the  poor 
and  miserable,  that  every  man  should  have  free  access  to  educa- 
tion, to  the  country,  to  health  and  just  enjoyment,  and  that  the 
burden  of  weariness  and  sickness  and  tyranny  should  be  lifted 
from  the  shoulders  of  them  who  labour  and  are  heavy  laden. 
From  this  preaching,  when  it  comes  with  power,  two  classes  will 
receive  a  blessing.  .  .  .  When  Christianity  has  at  a  great  cost 
given  a  home  to  the  humblest  of  the  people,  she  will  find  a  wel- 
come home  in  the  people's  heart." 

All  this  means  some  cost  to  the  individual.  It  is 
easy  for  any  man  to  put  his  finger  on  the  difficulty 
to-day,  and  to  say  how  others  should  solve  it;  but 
the  call  comes  to  us  each  by  each  and  one  by  one. 
"Simon,  Son  of  Jonas,"  said  the  Master,  "lovest 
thou  Me  more  than  these?  Tend  my  sheep,  feed 
my  lambs."  No  fear  of  the  dying  down  of  moral 
enthusiasm;  the  Christ  is  leading,  and  the  spirit  of 
Christ  is  inspiring  every  heroic  service  for  the  King. 
You  who  would  serve  the  Master,  serve  the  Master's 
own.  We  call  for  the  union  of  all  who  love  in  the 
cause  of  all  who  suffer.  Don't  let  us  misplace  our 
question,  "Lord  whither  goest  Thou?"  The  signs  of 
the  times  afford  the  answer.  We  cannot  but  follow 
where  Jesus  has  led.  There  is  a  Roman  Catholic 
legend  as  to  the  martyrdom  of  the  Apostle  Peter, 
which  runs  thus:  St  Peter  was  urged  by  his  fellow- 
Christians  in  Rome,  when  martyrdom  was  imminent, 
to  flee  the  city  and  take  refuge  from  the  last  dread 
ordeal.  Finally  he  succumbed  to  the  appeal,  and 


QUO  VADIS  19 

was  about  to  flee  from  the  headsman's  axe,  when  he 
fell  asleep,  and  dreamed  that  he  had  escaped  the 
city.  Outside,  in  the  Appian  Way,  he  met  his 
Master's  form  coming  towards  the  Rome  he  had  just 
left,  and  Peter  uttered  the  words  of  his  question 
in  the  upper  room,  "Lord,  whither  goest  Thou?" 
The  answer  of  the  Master  was,  "I  go  to  Rome  to 
be  crucified  a  second  time."  Peter  bowed  his  head 
before  the  Master,  and  said,  "Lord,  be  it  far  from 
Thee.  I  shall  go."  He  turned  back.  When  he 
woke  from  his  dream  he  no  longer  desired  to  escape 
martyrdom;  he  was  crucified  for  Christ.  Beloved, 
we  are  called  to  be  crucified  with  Christ.  There  is 
no  escape.  In  the  practical  things  of  this  world, 
doing  the  right,  the  loving,  the  kind,  and  the  true, 
will  always  cost.  It  has  to  be  faced,  and  it  must  be 
done,  if  we  would  follow  where  He  leads.  There  is  a 
familiar  picture  called  the  Via  Dolorosa;  the  central 
figure  is  the  Christ  leading  a  suffering,  groaning, 
agonised  multitude.  The  Cross  is  upon  His  shoulder, 
and  in  the  darkness  of  that  sombre  avenue  men  and 
women  are  toilsomely,  painfully  creeping  behind 
Him  along  the  Via  Dolorosa  to  a  better  place  on 
the  further  side  of  the  forbidding  crags.  False  to 
the  facts!  He  went  forth  bearing  His  Cross, 
standing  strong  upon  His  feet.  We  who  follow 
behind  Him  to  the  strenuous  and  the  heroic  life 
have  no  need  to  lie  down  and  toilsomely  to  creep 
behind  the  Master.  The  cure  for  the  pusillanimity 
of  the  weak,  the  coward  shrinking  from  high  things, 


20  QUO  VADIS 

the  remedy  for  dying-down  enthusiasms,  is  to  preach 
Christ's  salvation,  Christ's  consolation,  Christ  the 
Master,  the  near,  the  present,  the  strong  Friend. 
He  is  leading,  He  is  thinking,  He  is  caring.  He  has 
never  ceased  to  care.  And  as  He  cares  His  call 
comes.  Who  amongst  us  is  ready  to  obey? 


THE  DEATH-SONG  OF  JESUS 


THE  following  sermon  had  a  very  simple  origin.  From  time  to 
time  members  of  my  congregation  send  requests  for  prayer  for 
themselves  or  their  friends.  Sometimes  these  requests  are  accom- 
panied by  particulars  intended  for  the  minister's  eye  alone.  A 
greater  number  of  these  than  usual  had  been  received;  stories  of 
trouble,  perplexity  and  danger.  One  such  note  contained  a  post- 
script, the  exact  words  of  which  I  cannot  remember,  but  conclud- 
ing with  the  phrase,  "Songs  of  despair."  Instantly  there  came  to 
the  preacher's  mind  the  hymn  that  Jesus  sang  before  Calvary — 
no  song  of  despair. 


II 

"And  when  they  had  sung  an  hymn,  they  want  out." — MARK  xiv.26. 

THIS  text  opens  before  us  an  endless  vista  of 
love  and  beauty.  "And  when  they  had  sung  an 
hymn,  they  went  out."  Think  of  all  that  was  to 
follow,  and  remember  that  Jesus  knew  it.  This 
hymn,  whatever  it  was,  was  therefore  the  death-song 
of  Jesus.  And  what  was  it?  There  is  surprisingly 
little  curiosity  on  the  subject.  I  do  not  recollect 
that  I  have  ever  heard  the  question  asked,  What 
was  the  hymn  that  Jesus  sang  on  the  night  of  His 
betrayal  ? 

It  may  be  that  many  here  have  never  thought 
about  it  at  all.  And  yet  we  every  one  of  us  remem- 
ber with  a  certain  sweet  sadness  the  songs  of  our 
beloved  dead,  and  when  they  sang  them. 

"Jesu,  Lover  of  my  soul, 
Let  me  to  Thy  bosom  fly." 

While  I  repeat  the  line,  some  person  present  says 
to  himself,  "Those  were  the  last  words  my  father 
ever  uttered." 

"  To  Him  the  first  fond  prayers  are  said 

Our  lips  of  childhood  frame; 
The  last  low  whispers  of  our  dead 
Are  burdened  with  His  name." 

33 


24  THE  DEATH-SONG  OF  JESUS 

"Rock  of  Ages  cleft  for  me."  While  I  repeat  the 
familiar  line  that  we  shall  be  singing  in  most  of  our 
places  of  worship  within  the  next  few  days,  some- 
one present  will  be  thinking,  "That  was  my  mother's 
favourite  hymn."  We  remember  these  associations 
with  the  name  of  Jesus,  and  we  graft  them  upon  our 
memory  of  the  holy  dead.  Is  it  not,  then,  somewhat 
surprising  that  we  never  ask  what  hymn  it  was  that 
He  Himself  sang  in  the  hour  and  article  of  death? 
There  is  good  reason  to  believe  that  it  was  Psalm 
cxviii.  It  was  especially  appropriate  to  the  feast 
which  Jesus  observed  with  His  disciples,  and  it  con- 
tains the  very  sentence  with  which  the  crowds 
greeted  Him  on  that  morning  or  the  day  before  in 
the  streets  of  Jerusalem,  "Hosanna!  Blessed  is  He 
that  cometh  in  the  name  of  the  Lord."  It  was  being 
sung  by  more  than  the  little  group  of  disciples  in  the 
upper  room,  but  it  was  far  more  appropriate  than 
anyone  but  Jesus  knew,  for  He  sang  it  alone.  The 
steps  of  His  betrayer  were  even  at  that  moment 
audible  as  they  passed  into  the  night.  The  grand, 
lonely  soul  of  Jesus,  august  Son  of  God,  singing  in 
the  moment  of  His  betrayal;  His  murderers  are 
ready  with  their  swords  and  staves,  the  fires  are  lit 
in  the  hall  of  Caiaphas;  the  very  cross  is  fashioned 
and  Calvary's  horror  is  waiting.  It  was  all  arranged ; 
there  was  no  justice  about  the  matter;  the  verdict 
was  foreordained  by  those  who  had  schemed  to 
murder  Him,  and  in  this  terrible  moment  this  is 
what  He  sings : — 


THE  DEATH-SONG  QF  JESUS  25 

"I  shall  not  die,  but  live,  and  declare  the  works  of  the  Lord. 
.  .  .  This  is  the  day  which  the  Lord  hath  made;  we  will  rejoice 
and  be  glad  in  it.  ...  God  is  the  Lord,  who  hath  shewed  us 
light;  bind  the  sacrifice  with  cords,  even  unto  the  horns  of  the 
altar.  Thou  art  my  God,  and  I  will  praise  Thee :  Thou  art  my 
God,  I  will  exalt  Thee.  O  give  thanks  unto  the  Lord,  for  He 
is  good,  for  His  mercy  endureth  for  ever." 

This  was  the  song  that  Jesus  sang. 

The  death-song  of  Jesus  is,  you  see,  a  song  of 
triumph  uttered  before  the  agony  came.  He  knew 
absolutely  that  the  Father  would  not  fail  Him,  that 
evil  could  not  prevail,  and  that  the  sacrifice  would 
be  a  great  victory.  But  mark  this:  He  could  not 
see  beyond  Calvary.  He  knew,  but  He  could  not 
see.  Faith  never  can  do  otherwise  than  that;  it 
knows,  but  it  cannot  see.  He  could  see  the  whole 
way  right  up  to  Calvary;  He  knew  what  He  was 
going  to  do,  and  that  it  must  be  done  alone,  and  as 
Peter  and  John  were  singing  on  either  side  of  Him, 
"Bind  the  sacrifice  with  cords,"  he  knew  that  they 
were  going  to  run  away;  the  moment  they  stopped 
singing  He  told  them  about  that,  as  we  read  in  the 
context;  and  He  knew  that  He  would  have  to  fling 
His  strong  arm  around  them,  and  beg  their  lives  from 
his  own  murderers.  He  knew  it;  He  knew  about 
the  midnight  trial,  and  the  travesty  of  justice;  He 
knew  the  face  of  the  perplexed  Roman  governor  on 
the  throne  when  He,  the  King,  stood  before  him,  as 
an  accused  criminal.  He  saw  the  sea  of  murderous 
faces  round  the  cross,  and  He  already  felt  in  antici- 
pation the  terrible  shame  of  it  all.  Yet  He  could 


26          THE  DEATH-SONG  OF  JESUS 

not  see  beyond  Calvary.  He  only  knew,  "Thou 
wilt  not  leave  his  soul  in  the  grave,  neither  wilt 
Thou  suffer  Thy  Holy  One  to  see  corruption" — 
every  detail  up  to  Calvary,  and  not  a  moment 
beyond  it. 

Someone  will  say,  Could  Jesus  have  done  less? 
Surely  He  could  see  the  end  from  the  beginning. 
He  foresaw  the  rending  of  the  tomb.  He  knew 
how  much  hung  upon  His  faithfulness,  and  upon  the 
way  He  fought  His  conflict  through.  In  a  word,  the 
whole  destiny  of  humanity  rested  upon  what  Jesus 
would  do.  Could  He  have  done  less  than  He  did? 
I  answer,  No,  He  could  not.  But  that  does  not 
lessen  my  obligation  to  Him,  nor  the  fitness  of  its 
expression.  Jesus  could  not  have  done  less  just 
because  He  was  Jesus,  and  because  He  was  so 
noble  and  pure,  and  because  His  purpose  had  to  be 
accomplished  to  the  last  detail.  So  He  did  not 
shrink  from  the  Cross.  He  could  not  have  done 
less,  nor  does  this  consideration  diminish  the  grandeur 
of  His  demeanour  in  the  slightest  degree. 

Two  great  mysteries  stand  out  here.  First,  the 
mystery  of  His  agony.  As  a  Roman  Catholic  theo- 
logian has  put  it,  the  agony  in  the  garden  and  the 
dereliction  on  Calvary  present  to  the  gaze  an  ocean  of 
sorrow  on  the  shores  of  which  we  may  stand  and 
look  down  upon  the  waveless  surface,  but  the 
depths  below  no  created  intelligence  can  fathom. 
Never  speak  lightly  of  the  agony  of  Christ,  for  you 
do  not  know  what  it  was,  nor  how  terrible,  nor  how 


THE  DEATH-SONG  OF  JESUS  27 

overwhelming  even  to  the  Divine  Son  of  God.  The 
second  mystery  is  the  mystery  of  His  deliverance. 
He  saw  through  the  first  mystery,  but  not  the  second. 
He  saw  the  agony  as  we  never  can  see  it,  but  He 
did  not  see  beyond.  We  see  the  second,  but  not 
the  first.  We  never  can  look  on  Calvary  except 
over  the  empty  tomb.  We  see  on  this  side  of  the 
Cross;  Christ  looked  on  the  other.  Think,  then,  of 
the  grandeur  and  the  magnificence  of  that  august 
Figure,  standing  pathetic  and  lonely  in  the  upper 
room,  singing,  "Bind  the  sacrifice  with  cords,  bind 
it  to  the  horns  of  the  altar  .  .  .  O  give  thanks 
unto  the  Lord,  for  He  is  good;  for  His  mercy 
endureth  forever." 

The  present  Bishop  of  Worcester  somewhere 
says,  there  was  nothing  endured  by  Christ  which 
we  may  not  also  be  called  upon  to  suffer  in  our 
degree.  I  ask  you  to  weigh  that  sentence.  In 
fellowship  with  Christ  we  may  be  capable  of  the 
same  grandeur  of  achievement  in  our  degree;  and 
herein  consists  the  principal  value  of  my  beautiful 
text,  "And  when  they  had  sung  an  hymn,  they 
went  out."  Do  you  observe  the  plural  number? 
There  were  twelve  men  singing,  but  only  One  of 
them  sang  the  song  as  it  should  be  sung.  The 
eleven  did  not  know  much  about  it.  They  pro- 
tested their  loyalty,  their  faithfulness,  their  fervour 
of  devotion,  but  by-and-bye  they  forsook  Him  and 
fled.  But  that  was  not  the  end,  thank  God.  Peter 
and  John  and  the  rest  had  their  chance  again,  and 


28          THE  DEATH-SONG  OF  JESUS 

the  time  came  round  when  they  sang  the  death- 
song  of  Jesus  as  they  had  not  sung  it  before,  and 
this  was  the  ring  of  it:  "I  have  fought  a  good 
fight,  I  have  finished  my  .course,  I  have  kept  the 
faith,  I  am  now  ready  to  be  offered."  These  terror- 
stricken  Galileans  who  fled  from  Gethsemane  ere 
long  became  heroes  for  the  Christ,  and  sang  the 
death-song  of  Jesus  in  the  very  face  of  tyranny  and 
shame.  The  things  that  had  terrified  them  before 
were  mere  shadows  compared  with  this.  But 
something  had  changed  them:  was  it  not  that  they 
had  learned  to  sing  the  death-song  of  Jesus  with 
His  own  accent,  knowing  it  was  but  the  beginning 
and  not  the  end? 

Looking  into  the  face  of  this  congregation  this 
morning,  I  am  conscious  of  a  deep  respect  for  the 
souls  that  look  back  at  me  out  of  your  eyes.  What 
tragedies  are  here;  what  secret  agonies;  what 
shame;  what  betrayal;  what  desertion;  what  mid- 
night trial;  what  Calvary,  I  know  not,  but  I  would 
ask  you  a  question  in  the  spirit  of  my  text:  What 
kind  of  song  is  your  heart  singing?  Can  it  sing  at 
all?  Can  you  see  God  anywhere?  Or  is  your 
vision  bounded  by  the  cross?  I  mean  the  cross  on 
which  your  hopes  have  been  crucified.  There  are 
some  grand  things  here,  if  I  could  only  get  at  them. 
And,  by  the  way,  I  never  remember  preaching  a 
sermon  here,  and  adducing  one  single  illustration 
from  the  facts  of  human  life  as  I  know  it,  without 
someone  who  was  here  either  coming  or  writing  to 


THE  DEATH-SONG  OF  JESUS  29 

me  afterwards  and  saying,  "That  was  my  life  you 
were  describing."  Well,  I  once  heard  of,  but  never 
knew,  a  young  father  who  fought  a  battle  with 
fate  on  this  wise.  He  was  smitten  with  a  deadly 
disease;  he  knew  it,  and  was  told  that  his  only 
chance  of  life  was  that  he  should  suffer  someone  to 
minister  to  him,  and  for  the  rest  of  his  days — short 
days,  too — he  should  take  things  quietly  and  rest 
and  wait  for  death.  "Let  others  suffer,  and  let 
others  strive;  be  still,"  said  the  doctor,  "that  is 
your  only  chance  of  life."  But  he  had  two  little 
babes,  so  he  took  another  course.  He  might  have 
turned  bitter,  and  cursed  and  railed  against  fate,  and, 
with  it,  God.  Or  he  might  have  pitied  himself  and 
taken  the  easier  course,  and  called  upon  others  to 
provide  for  these  his  loved  ones.  But  he  did  not; 
he  went  out  as  if  nothing  had  happened,  back  to  his 
work  with  double  intensity.  He  could  not  leave  his 
children  to  the  mercy  of  the  world.  It  is  not  that 
the  world  is  so  very  unkind,  but  it  forgets.  He 
determined  they  should  have  their  chance  when  he 
himself  was  gone.  He  uttered  no  complaint;  he 
never  presented  to  them  any  story  of  his  own 
heroism.  He  just  went  on  with  brave  heart  and 
cheerful  face.  For  years  that  man  sang  the  death- 
song  of  Christ,  and  no  martyr  going  to  the  stake 
ever  sang  it  better. 

I  have  also  heard  of,  but  never  knew,  a  young 
mother,  whose  means  of  livelihood  was  her  gift  of 
song,  and  once  when  her  only  child  was  lying  ill  at 


30  THE  DEATH-SONG  OF  JESUS 

home  she  had  to  sing  for  bread  before  a  gaping 
crowd,  and  refuse  an  encore  that  she  might  escape 
from  the  footlights  and  get  back  to  that  suffering 
bedside.  When  she  got  there  it  was  only  to  hear 
that  there  was  no  hope.  This  was  the  last  request 
of  her  dying  child — "Mother,  sing  to  me!"  Can 
you  think  of  anything  more  terrible  than  that  mid- 
night agony?  In  the  very  presence  of  the  shadow 
of  death  the  brave  little  woman  gathers  her  baby  to 
her  breaking  heart  and  paces  that  death-room 
singing:— 

"  I  think  when  I  read  that  sweet  story  of  old 

When  Jesus  was  here  among  men, 
How  He  called  little  children  like  lambs  to  His  fold, 
I  should  like  to  have  been  with  Him  then." 

The  child  was  going  home,  the  mother  was  to  live, 
but  it  was  she  and  not  the  child  that  sang  the  death- 
song  of  Jesus,  and  sang  it  well  for  love's  sake. 

Compare  these  two  cases,  and  you  can  find  experi- 
ences in  this  congregation  sufficiently  like  them  to 
make  it  worth  my  while  to  paint  the  picture.  Of 
one  such  I  have  heard  this  very  week.  A  mother 
writes  to  me,  as  many  people  do  about  the  things  I 
teach  and  the  things  I  do  not  teach,  and  complains 
that  I  declare  an  impossible  God,  an  imaginary  God, 
a  God,  she  says,  for  comfortable  Christians.  Here 
let  me  in  an  aside  warn  anyone  from  ever  seeking 
to  interpret  another  person's  life  and  labelling  it 
either  comfortable  or  stern.  You  never  can  change 
places  with  anyone,  and  you  never  can  penetrate  to 


THE  DEATH-SONG  OF  JESUS  31 

the  springs  of  another  man's  being:  only  God  can  do 
that.  But  this,  in  effect,  is  what  she  says.  I  do  not 
give  you  the  very  words.  My  heart  filled  up  with 
pity  when  I  read  them :  "Knowing  the  struggle  I 
have  had  to  keep  the  wolf  from  the  door,  and  how 
I  prayed  my  prayers  in  vain,  I  have  come  to  the  con- 
clusion there  may  be  a  God,  but  He  is  no  God  of 
love,  He  is  a  God  whose  words  are  pain.  If  there 
be  such  a  God,  I  loathe  Him  with  my  whole  soul. 
My  little  girl  of  six  has  learnt  to  blaspheme  His 
name,  and  I  never  rebuke  her,  rather,  I  am  glad." 
Poor  bitter-hearted  woman!  Do  you  know,  I  think 
I  can  read  in  a  declaration  of  that  kind  that  she  is 
not  so  far  from  God  as  she  seems.  If  a  man  has 
intensity  enough  to  protest  against  the  heavenly 
Father,  the  one  feeling  can  be  pretty  quickly  trans- 
lated into  the  other,  and  the  protest  become  praise. 
But  oh  what  a  mistake  she  is  making  now!  She 
knows  little  or  nothing  of  the  fellowship  of  the  Cross. 
Has  she  never  heard  anything  of  the  meaning  of 
Gethsemane  and  Calvary,  or  the  death-song  of 
Jesus?  She  has  refused  to  sing  it,  and  what  is 
worse,  she  has  stifled  the  song  of  an  angel  in  the 
heart  of  her  little  child.  How  near  together  lie 
success  and  failure  in  the  great  moral  crisis  of  life! 
We  say  of  that  young  father  whom  I  have  just 
described,  "Could  he  have  done  less?"  Of  course 
he  could  not;  he  would  have  been  false  to  his 
trusteeship  if  he  had.  He  did  exactly  what  God 
meant  him  to  do;  no  more  than  Jesus,  could  he 


32  THE  DEATH-SONG  OF  JESUS 

have  done  less  in  the  shadow  of  Calvary.  He  sang 
the  death-song,  sang  it  like  a  martyr,  sang  it  like  a 
saint,  and  it  may  be  that  you  and  I,  sooner  rather 
than  late,  will  have  our  death-song  to  sing,  and  to 
go  on  living. 

I  speak  this  morning  to  any  man  or  any  woman 
who  is  fronting  some  terrible  thing,  who,  like  Christ 
in  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death,  goes  forward 
with  a  face  towards  the  gleam  of  light  at  the  end,  with 
the  demons  whispering  gibes  in  your  ear.  Your  prayer 
for  strong  deliverance  is  heard;  you  can  meet  your 
fate — shall  we  call  it  fate? — your  lot,  with  bitterness, 
or  you  can  meet  it  with  the  spirit  of  defiance,  which 
is  the  spirit  of  the  devil  all  the  same.  There  is 
another  way:  meet  it  in  the  spirit  of  the  Christ; 
rise  high  to  the  opportunity.  "I  shall  not  die,  but 
live,  and  declare  the  works  of  the  Lord  .  .  .  bind 
the  sacrifice  with  cords,  even  unto  the  horns  of  the 
altar" — and  oh — can  you  say  it? — "give  thanks 
unto  the  Lord,  for  He  is  good;  for  His  mercy 
endureth  for  ever."  The  Lord  would  not  think 
much  of  humanity  if  He  gave  it  only  the  toys  in  the 
nursery.  He  gives  us  something  grander  than  that; 
it  is  the  fellowship  of  the  Cross.  We  have  nothing 
to  do  with  our  own  redemption ;  we  have  much  to  do 
with  filling  up  the  measure  that  is  behind.  Christ 
fought  a  battle  for  us,  let  us  fight  our  battle  with 
Him. 

I  would  say,  then,  to  any  man  or  woman  of  broken 
mutilated  life,  Lift  up  your  heart  and  listen,  listen 


THE  DEATH-SONG  OF  JESUS  33 

to  the  death-song  of  Jesus,  which  is  sung  by  the 
heavenly  choir,  the  choir  of  those  who  have  washed 
their  robes  and  made  them  white  in  the  blood  of  the 
Lamb.  When  the  organist  was  playing  that  lovely 
voluntary  this  morning,  which  came  with  such  a 
sweet  and  quieting  devotional  influence  upon  your 
hearts  and  mine,  I  thought  of  something  which  I 
now  suggest  to  you.  If  you  were  to  place  in  this 
pulpit  a  violin  or  harp  tuned  to  the  pitch  of  the 
organ  above,  and  leave  it  alone,  not  touching  it,  and 
that  voluntary  was  played  again,  and  you  bent  your 
ear  near  to  the  stringed  instrument,  seemingly  so 
silent,  you  would  hear  every  note  of  it  coming 
from  strings  that  are  swept  by  the  hand  of  no 
human  player.  My  brethren,  you  are  like  the 
harp  strung  by  the  hand  of  God.  Keep  atune 
with  heaven,  and  you  shall  sing  such  a  song 
as  you  will  never  otherwise  sing  in  this  world. 
It  is  no  human  hand  that  sweeps  the  strings,  only 
the  Hand  that  tuned  them;  and  your  melody  already 
joins  with  that  of  the  great  choir  above. 

As  my  closing  application  of  this  beautiful 
message  of  God,  "When  they  had  sung  an  hymn, 
they  went  out,"  let  me  quote  some  lines  by  the  Rev. 
V.  J.  Charlesworth : 

"  When  friends  are  few  or  far  away, 

Sing  on,  dear  heart,  sing  on! 
They  rise  to  sing  who  kneel  to  pray, 

Sing  on,  dear  heart,  sing  on ! 
The  songs  of  earth  to  heav'n  ascend, 


34  THE  DEATH-SONG  OF  JESUS 

And  with  adoring  anthems  blend, 
Whose  ringing  echoes  ne'er  shall  end; 
Sing  on,  dear  heart,  sing  on !  " 

Yes,  even  so,  sing  on,  for  even  now  your  melody 
is  blending  with  the  strains  of  the  multitude  that 
no  man  can  number  around  the  throne  of  God. 


THE  WINDOWS  OPEN  TOWARDS 
JERUSALEM 


THE  following  was  a  business  man's  sermon,  and  preached  for  the 
sake  of  an  individual.  Probably  there  were  many  more  like  him 
in  the  congregation,  but  I  only  knew  the  one  man  whom  I  sought 
to  help.  He  was  not  a  church-goer:  that  is  to  say,  he  attended 
no  place  of  worship  on  Sundays,  although  he  was  a  regular  at- 
tendant at  the  Thursday  service.  Years  before  he  had  been  put 
out  of  touch  with  religious  work  by  some  real  or  fancied  affront 
— in  fact  he  seemed  to  have  been  rather  hardly  and  unsympathet- 
ically  used.  He  was  now  willing  to  make  a  fresh  start,  but  could 
not  help  blazing  out  at  the  meanness  and  unscrupulousness  of 
the  treatment  meted  out  to  him  in  business  by  professing  Chris- 
tians. I  still  see  this  hearer  sitting  in  the  midst  of  the  city  men 
Thursday  by  Thursday.  Whether  this  particular  sermon  helped 
him  or  no  I  never  knew,  but  it  reached  one  or  two  young  fellows 
who  were  beginning  to  find  out  that  success  has  its  penalties,  of 
which  envy  is  one. 


Ill 

"  Now  when  Daniel  knew  that  the  writing  was  signed,  he  went 
into  his  house,  and  his  windows  being  opened  in  his  chamber 
toward  Jerusalem,  he  kneeled  upon  his  knees  three  times  a  day, 
and  prayed,  and  gave  thanks  before  his  God,  as  he  did  afore- 
time."— DANIEL  vi.  10. 

THE  book  of  Daniel  has  long  been  a  subject  of 
controversy  amongst  scholars,  and  is  a  favourite  with 
some  who  profess  to  find  in  it  indications  concerning 
the  political  future  of  the  world.  For  the  present, 
however,  you  and  I  need  not  concern  ourselves  with 
questions  of  scholarship  or  prophecy.  Our  text  is 
plain  enough;  it  has  a  meaning  and  a  value  in- 
dependent of  both.  Neither  the  scholar  nor  the 
would-be  prophet,  foreteller  of  events  I  mean,  has 
aught  to  say  that  can  add  anything  to  the  force  and 
the  commanding  personal  appeal  of  our  text.  Let  us 
look  first  at  the  meaning,  and  then  at  the  value  which 
the  meaning  indicates. 

Here  is  a  great  man,  Daniel  by  name,  who  is  a 
stranger  in  a  strange  land,  one  of  a  captive  people; 
but,  like  so  many  of  his  race,  he  is  found  to  be  useful 
to  the  reigning  house  in  the  country  where  he  now 
is;  and  so  he  is  preferred  before  even  the  subjects 
of  the  same  race  as  the  king  himself;  and  we  are 
told  the  king  thought  to  set  him  over  the  whole 
realm.  You  know  enough  about  human  nature  to 

37 


38  THE  WINDOWS  OPEN 

be  aware  of  what  would  happen.  In  this  case,  at  any 
rate,  the  writer  of  this  book  was  inspired  by  ex- 
perience. It  was  with  Daniel  as  with  Merlin  in 
"The  Idylls  of  the  King" :— 

"  Sweet  were  the  days  when  I  was  all  unknown. 
But  when  my  name  was  lifted  up,  the  storm 
Brake  on  the  mountain,  and  I  cared  not  for  it. 
Right  well  know  I  that  fame  is  half  disfame, 
Yet  needs  must  work  my  work." 

Daniel  appears  to  have  gone  quietly  on  the  path 
which  not  the  king  but  God  had  marked  out  for  him; 
lived  his  life,  did  his  duty.  His  practice  was  to  keep 
his  soul  right  towards  God  by  this  meditation  three 
times  a  day.  He  would  enter  into  his  private  room, 
open  his  window  towards  Jerusalem,  the  home  of  his 
love,  in  order  that  he  might  remind  himself  of  his 
allegiance  to  the  God  of  Israel,  and  that  he  had  no 
abiding  city  in  Babylon.  What  was  the  king  to 
him,  and  all  the  king's  honour?  Yonder,  at  Jerusa- 
lem, in  the  service  of  Israel's  God,  were  Daniel's 
thought  and  Daniel's  hope. 

Now  observe  the  devilry  that  is  set  on  foot. 
The  king  loves  his  talented  subject,  and  so  by  guile 
Daniel's  foes  have  to  make  a  way  through  that 
devotion  to  encompass  the  destruction  of  their  rival; 
they  suggested  the  king's  vanity  the  way  in  which 
this  might  be  done.  There  is  to  be  no  prayer  for  three 
days.  Who  ever  dreams  that  Daniel  would  intermit 
his  devotion  for  that?  Now  can  you  see  them 
slinking  round  outside  the  chamber  of  his  devotion 


TOWARDS  JERUSALEM  39 

and  looking  up:  "Has  he  the  window  open? 
Just  what  we  expected!"  "Then  they  came  near 
and  told  the  king."  Is  not  that  true  to  life?  You 
do  not  need  to  look  very  far  for  the  meaning  of  my 
text  now;  and  if  the  sermon  were  to  stop  at  this 
point,  every  one  of  you  could  supply  the  application. 
It  is  just  possible  that  some  man  present  might  be 
saying  to  himself,  "I  am  sorry  you  have  chosen  this 
particular  illustration  of  what  human  nature  knows 
to  be  true;  what  a  childish  tale  this  is  about  a  man 
being  flung  into  the  lions'  den  and  coming  out 
unhurt!  Tell  it  to  children."  Well,  I  am  telling 
it  to  grown  men.  It  may  seem  to  you  altogether 
irrational,  but  I  actually  believe  it.  I  remember 
listening  to  Dr  Parker's  posthumous  message  to  the 
Free  Churches,  which  contained  something  of  a 
remonstrance  against  a  certain  kind  of  Biblical 
scholarship  in  these  terms : — "We  are  now  told 
that  there  was  no  den,  that  there  were  no  lions, 
and,  worst  of  all,  that  there  was  no  Daniel."  If  my 
revered  predecessor  were  here  this  morning,  I  would 
point  out  Daniel  to  him  in  the  congregation.  For 
in  this  story  we  have  a  very  vivid  picture  of  ordinary 
human  life,  and  an  epitome  of  the  destiny  of  many 
and  many  a  true  servant  of  God.  I  am  looking  into 
the  face  of  some  men  who  are  being  committed  to 
the  den  of  lions,  and  will  find  themselves  there 
before  this  afternoon  is  out.  I  would  talk  to  them 
as  from  the  heart  of  God;  and  this  is  all  I  have  to 
say.  You  know  where  you  are  going,  do  you  not? 


40  THE  WINDOWS  OPEN 

You  know  the  writing  is  signed;  open  the  win- 
dows towards  Jerusalem;  no  compromise  with  the 
enemy;  be  as  though  he  were  not  there.  We  have 
no  abiding  city  here,  but  seek  a  city  out  of  sight. 
You  will  be  a  better  citizen  of  this  world  if  you  live 
in  the  full  vision  of  the  next. 

Let  me  take  that  youngster,  perhaps  the  youngest 
male  hearer  that  I  have  this  morning,  and  I  will  tell 
you  about  his  life.  He  is,  as  the  cynic  would  say, 
cursed  with  a  conscience.  He  has  just  earned  his 
little  piece  of  success.  He  stands  well  with  his 
employer;  he  has  worked  hard  enough  to  get  there, 
and  it  seems  as  if  the  road  is  opening  before  him, 
and  life  will  bring  him  some  good  things  by-and-bye. 
Here  is  the  enemy.  This  young  man  is  rinding  he 
has  to  pay  his  price  for  his  success — calumny,  petty 
persecution,  inflicted  in  ways  which  are  difficult  to 
fix  and  to  face  out;  and  sometimes  you  are  almost 
inclined  to  turn  cynic  yourself.  Then  the  preacher 
comes  along  and  says :  "Open  the  windows  towards 
Jerusalem.  Look  back  along  the  line  of  history  to 
One  who  stood  in  that  fateful  city  at  Pilate's  judg- 
ment seat.  Consider  Him  that  endured  such  con- 
tradiction of  sinners  against  Himself;  and  when  He 
was  reviled,  reviled  not  again."  "Ah,  yes!"  is  the 
response,  "but  I  cannot  see  Christ  in  business."  I 
am  thankful  you  cannot,  unspeakable  thankful;  for 
if  you  could,  a  great  moral  opportunity  that  you  have 
now  would  never  be  yours  at  all;  for  persecuted  and 
persecutor  would  both  be  on  the  side  of  Christ, 


TOWARDS  JERUSALEM  41 

seeing  Him  in  power  and  great  glory.  There  is  a 
moral  value  in  not  knowing  too  much;  mystery  hath 
its  uses.  If  you  could  see  things  as  they  actually 
are  you  would  never  even  talk  about  the  Cross,  you 
would  not  hesitate  as  to  what  you  ought  to  do.  Do 
it  now,  as  if  you  could  see.  Wait  a  moment.  I  said 
you  could  not  see  Christ.  Open  the  windows  toward 
Jerusalem,  and  gaze  through  the  things  that  are  seen 
to  the  things  that  are  not  seen.  Look  into  the  face 
of  the  Master  and  you  will  see  something  that  the 
world  cannot  see,  and  it  will  keep  you  true.  Human 
nature  is  capable  of  many  damnable  things,  even 
now;  and  lest  I  should  be  held  to  be  prophesying 
smooth  things  and  telling  nursery  tales  instead  of 
God's  word,  I  would  just  say  this:  you  may  have 
worse  to  suffer  yet;  this  may  only  be  the  beginning. 
The  writing  is  signed;  you  may  not  know  it,  or  you 
may;  go  on  as  if  you  did  not  know;  go  to  your 
God;  open  the  windows  of  your  soul  heavenward, 
and  leave  the  rest  to  Him. 

We  will  take  that  woman — pure  and  good — who 
is  the  breadwinner  in  a  certain  family;  but  she  has 
to  earn  her  living  for  herself  and  the  rest  in  the 
presence  of  foul  and  humiliating  insult.  Most  men 
here  will  know  that  I  am  not  imagining  this.  It  is 
true  of  I  know  not  how  many  in  this  sanctuary 
to-day.  There  are  some  times  when  you  feel  that 
you  can  bear  no  more,  and  will  let  the  consequences 
be  what  they  may;  you  must  retreat  from  this  posi- 
tion of  hardship  and  shame.  You  have  no  one  to 


42  THE  WINDOWS  OPEN 

tell.  It  is  astonishing  how  few  there  are  in  the 
world  to  whom  man  or  woman  can  disclose  their 
whole  soul.  But  as  the  living  has  to  be  won,  and 
for  somebody  else  who  cannot  win  it  if  you  do  not, 
I  think  I  know  what  you  must  do.  The  writing  is 
signed,  and  it  seems  as  though  the  lions  are  waiting; 
but  you  must  go  back.  Open  the  windows  toward 
Jerusalem;  the  world  does  not  have  it  all  its  own 
way.  There  is  God,  and  He  is  just,  and  He  is 
strong.  "My  God  shall  supply  all  your  need 
according  to  His  riches  in  glory  by  Christ  Jesus." 
Fear  nothing,  save  to  compromise  with  the  Highest. 
Live  where  He  is,  for  as  He  is  so  are  we  in  this 
world. 

Take  this  business  man — to  whom  I  meant  to 
speak  at  first.  You  are  finding  every  day,  as  it  were, 
the  penalty  of  succeeding  in  almost  anything,  it 
matters  not  what.  It  seems  as  if  life  is  all  battle. 
What  a  weary  game  it  is,  this  making  money  in  the 
City!  What  a  rest,  what  a  relief  to  get  home  at 
night  and  leave  the  lions  for  a  while!  You  know 
what  professional  jealousy  means:  you  know  what 
it  is  to  make  an  implacable,  inveterate,  unsleeping 
enemy  who  will  hit  you  under  the  belt  every  time 
he  can.  Sometimes  you  are  tempted  to  get  the 
blow  in  first,  to  bring  down  the  standard  of  conduct 
and  right  doing  and  right  feeling.  Never  submit  to 
that  temptation:  it  is  the  business  man's  par  ex- 
cellence. It  is  so  difficult  to  keep  a  humble  heart, 
a  pure  spirit,  and  a  childlike  attitude  to  God,  when 


TOWARDS  JERUSALEM  43 

you  are  fighting  like  a  man  beset  on  the  stricken 
field,  and  heaven  so  far  away.  Well,  be  the  man; 
keep  the  windows  open  toward  Jerusalem.  The 
higher  vision  will  save  you  from  the  shame  of  falling 
in  this  world  of  a  thousand  temptations  to  the  strong 
man.  Let  the  indications  be  what  they  may,  let 
threatenings  be  all  they  seem,  your  God  is  stronger 
than  they  all.  God  and  one  make  a  majority. 

Just  as  I  came  up  the  pulpit  stairs,  the  sexton 
handed  me  this  little  spring  token1  from  one  of  my 
City  men.  I  have  been  looking  to  this  man  for 
some  time  for  little  loving  tokens  of  this  kind. 
From  his  card  I  see  that  he  is  an  Artist  and  a  Scot, 
and  his  house  is  named  after  that  little  piece  of  gorse 
I  hold  in  my  hand,  which  by  the  way  a  Scotsman 
does  not  call  gorse.  It  must  be  a  figure  of  his  own  life. 
There  is  the  golden  flower  of  success,  and  here  are 
the  thorns  that  make  it  so  I  can  scarcely  hold  it. 
It  reminds  me  of  the  experience  of  a  brother  artist 
of  this  man,  told  me  a  little  while  ago.  He  has  just 
got  some  plans  into  the  Royal  Academy,  and  he 
showed  me  the  only  unfavourable,  even  a  venomous, 
notice  of  them  which  appeared  in  a  paper.  He 
said,  "Would  you  think  that  this  man  is  not  speak- 
ing his  real  sentiments  at  all,  perhaps  never  saw  the 
plans?  But  I  happened  to  pass  him  in  a  competition 
a  little  while  ago,  and  he  has  been  waiting  for  me 
ever  since."  Just  so,  that  is  the  way  the  world 
does.  It  is  a  curious  thing  that  out  of  all  this 

1 A  small  bouquet  of  gorse  covered  with  golden  blossoms. 


44  THE  WINDOWS  OPEN 

multitude  this  morning  there  is  not  a  single  man 
who  can  say  he  never  had  an  experience  of  the 
kind,  and  never  knew  what  it  was  to  provoke  the 
hostility  of  a  man  to  whom  he  had  never  done  any 
harm.  Nor  does  it  matter;  be  prepared  for  that; 
it  is  the  writing  that  fronts  all  opportunity  for  moral 
heroism.  The  world  will  never  give  you  any  credit 
for  the  better  motive  if  there  are  two  from  which 
to  choose.  Disinterestedness  is  seldom  believed  in. 
What  is  his  game?  is  the  question,  if  you  will 
excuse  the  homely  parlance,  that  is  asked  of  any 
man's  conduct  when  it  even  seems  to  be  unselfish. 
But  why  do  people  get  soured  when  they  find  that 
this  is  so?  That  is  the  world's  writing:  they  are 
looking  to  see  if  you  have  your  window  open. 
Open  it  as  if  the  world  were  not  there.  "Be  thou 
as  chaste  as  ice,  as  pure  as  snow,  thou  shalt  not 
escape  calumny." 

There  are  some  specially  trying  times  in  every 
man's  life,  and  it  may  be  that  yours — if  I  speak  to 
only  one  man  in  this  place — has  now  arrived.  Now 
I  would  most  earnestly  point  out  the  real  danger  to 
you  in  these  seasons  of  trial.  It  is  not  what  you 
think  it  is.  It  is  of  a  double  kind.  First,  that 
evil  aimed  at  you  may  arouse  in  you  a  like  evil. 
A  sinister  mood  tends  to  reproduce  itself.  Secondly, 
fear  of  a  threatening  evil  may  lead  you  to  bow  to 
the  storm,  and  to  lower  your  flag,  to  turn  ever  so 
little  from  the  path  of  strict  rectitude.  Do  not 
succumb  to  either  suggestion.  You  meet  a  man 


TOWARDS  JERUSALEM  45 

who  dislikes  you — instinctively  you  know  it — and 
you  repay  him  in  kind.  Your  heart  is  beating 
quicker  when  you  are  in  his  presence,  but  it  is  not 
with  a  good  emotion.  Or  you  hear  of  a  man  who 
is  scheming  to  ruin  you,  and  forthwith  you  hit  him 
with  all  your  might.  He  would  never  do  you  any 
harm  if  there  were  no  ally  within  your  own  soul. 
There  is  a  danger  from  which  to  flee.  To  repay 
evil  with  evil  is  the  worst  possible  policy  you  could 
adopt.  When  our  Lord  left  us  the  exhortation, 
"Love  your  enemies;  pray  for  them  who  despitefully 
use  you,"  He  uttered  the  strictest  common  sense. 
That  is  your  only  way  of  safety.  We  have  all  heard 
Cromwell's  dying  prayer.  Did  you  ever  notice 
how  singularly  beautiful  and  noble  was  the  closing 
petition? — "Pardon  those  who  would  trample  upon 
the  dust  of  a  poor  worm,  for  they  are  Thy  people 
too."  It  is  always  difficult  to  be  just  to  an  enemy; 
it  cannot  be  done  until  you  get  into  that  Cromwell 
spirit,  which  was  the  Christ  spirit  before  it  was  his. 
The  ignoble  thing  would  be  to  take  a  different 
ground,  and  even  in  thought  to  repay  evil  with  evil; 
the  noblest,  the  wisest,  the  safest,  is  to  take  the 
ground  that  Daniel  took.  When  he  knew  that 
the  writing  was  signed,  he  went  back  into  his  room 
and  opened  the  windows  toward  Jerusalem.  There 
is  always  a  highest — live  there.  There  is  always 
a  holiest — look  there.  Fear  nothing,  save  to 
tamper  with  your  own  conscience.  Be  brave  and 
true,  and  trust  in  God.  "Yea,  though  I  walk 


46  THE  WINDOWS  OPEN 

through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,  I  will 
fear  no  evil :  for  Thou  art  with  me ;  Thy  rod  and 
Thy  staff  they  comfort  me." 

It  may  be  that  these  City  men  who  have  gathered 
within  these  walls  to  worship  this  morning  for  a 
little  while,  or  some  of  them,  are  going  back  to  the 
most  trying  experience  of  their  life.  Well,  go;  do 
not  shirk  it;  the  way  to  Beulah-land  may  lie  straight 
through  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow,  and  if  it  does 
be  sure  of  this :  God  will  be  no  nearer  in  Beulah- 
land  than  in  the  dark  valley ;  and  evil  can  do  no  more 
in  the  dark  valley  than  in  Beulah-land.  As  you  go 
back  to  your  business  to-day,  remember  to  keep 
the  windows  open  toward  Jerusalem. 

A  year  ago,  when  I  first  came  here,  I  had  on 
Thursday  afternoons  several  At  Homes,  in  order 
to  make  the  acquaintance  of  friends  and  visitors, 
and  I  remember  one  day  a  man  came  in  to  speak 
to  me  whom  I  had  never  seen  before  and  have 
never  seen  since.  He  had  a  shy,  half-shamefaced 
way  that  often  men  have  in  exposing  a  weak  side 
to  another  man.  He  said  to  me,  "You  were  speak- 
ing this  morning  in  a  figure  thus :  You  described 
a  man  hanging  from  a  prison  wall  all  night,  dreading 
to  drop  into  safety.  I  have  been  hanging  on  for  a 
year  or  two,  dreading  to  let  go,  because  I  feared 
it  would  not  be  safety;  it  would  be  a  precipice  over 
which  I  should  fall.  Pardon  me  for  saying  it,  sir. 
I  am  sorely  tempted  to  put  myself  right  in  a  way 
that  once  upon  a  time  I  should  never  have  dreamed 


TOWARDS  JERUSALEM  47 

I  could  even  entertain  in  thought.  What  am  I  to  do?" 
At  first  I  thought  he  had  come,  as  so  many  do,  to 
ask  that  I  should  put  him  right.  I  was  thankful  I 
did  not  say  so;  for  in  another  moment  he  said, 
"Mind  you,  neither  you  nor  any  other  man  can 
save  me;  if  ruin  comes  it  will  be  on  too  big  a  scale 
for  you  or  for  anyone  else  to  avert  the  catastrophe. 
What  I  want  to  know  is  this:  Knowing  as  I  do 
that  my  little  ones  are  sleeping  at  home,  and  that 
this  harassment  is  hanging  over  me,  and  that  if  I 
fail  they  suffer  too,  what  am  I  to  do?"  I  said, 
"Do  you  really  need  to  ask  a  preacher?"  His  reply 
was,  "I  think  not;  but  if  I  refuse  to  do  what  I  am 
sorely  tempted  to  do,  what  then?  Ruin — failure." 
I  said,  "Perhaps  so.  Go  back  to  your  business, 
and  fail;  and  when  your  life  story  comes  to  be  told 
— and  it  may  be  a  long  while  yet — praise  God  for 
the  success.  You  have  not  done;  it  seems  to  you 
so  simple  to  take  the  selfish  wrong  road,  to  go  down 
because  the  hill  is  so  steep  to  climb."  "No,"  he 
said,  "not  that.  What  I  am  afraid  of  is,  I  am 
going  down."  I  said,  "If  you  go,  underneath  are 
the  everlasting  arms.  A  man  falls  into  the  hands 
of  God — the  safest  place,  be  he  sinner  or  be  he 
saint.  Go  there."  I  have  never  heard  from  him 
what  happened;  I  sometimes  feel  I  would  like  to 
know.  For  I  can  parallel  that  story.  I  could  show 
men  who  do  not  stand  so  high  up  in  the  world  as 
they  used  to  do;  but  they  are  thankful  that  con- 
science is  clean.  They  know  it  was  worth  while  to 


48  THE  WINDOWS  OPEN 

take  the  straight  road;  they  know  it  was  the  wisest 
plan  to  do  the  right  thing;  they  know  it  were 
better  to  bequeath  to  their  children  a  father's  noble 
character  than  to  sin  for  the  sake  of  temporary 
deliverance.  They  know  that  in  the  den  of  lions 
there  was  no  evil,  for  the  Lord  of  Hosts  was  there. 
The  God  of  Heaven  has  His  own  way  of  delivering 
those  that  put  their  trust  in  Him.  The  Eternal 
God  is  our  refuge,  and  underneath  are  the  ever- 
lasting arms.  Brother  men,  keep  your  hearts  pure 
and  sweet  and  clean.  Keep  your  soul  open  towards 
God.  Live  your  life  with  the  windows  open  toward 
Jerusalem.  Trust  in  God  and  do  the  right. 


THE  MISUSE  OF  DIVINE  POWER 


THIS  sermon  was  an  attempt  to  reach  some  successful  commercial 
men  who  were  among  the  casual  hearers  at  the  City  Temple. 
Worshippers  they  were  not,  for  their  estimate  of  Christian  char- 
acter had,  somehow,  become  sadly  vitiated.  A  friend  sent  me  a 
line  saying  a  group  of  these  commercial  men  were  in  London  and 
would  be  at  service  on  Sunday  evening.  The  bow  was  drawn 
at  a  venture,  and  not  in  vain. 


IV 

"Then  saith  Pilate  unto  Him,  Speakest  Thou  not  unto  me? 
knowest  Thou  not  that  I  have  power  to  crucify  Thee,  and  have 
power  to  release  Thee?  Jesus  answered,  Thou  couldest  have  no 
power  at  all  against  Me,  except  it  were  given  thee  from  above: 
therefore  he  that  delivered  Me  unto  thee  hath  the  greater  sin." — 
ST  JOHN  xix.  10,  n. 

THERE  is  a  moral  tragedy  enacted  here.  There 
seems  to  have  been  a  certain  understanding  between 
Jesus  and  the  Roman  Governor  who  condemned 
Him  to  death.  We  can  see  this  by  the  demeanour 
of  the  governor  in  the  presence  of  the  prisoner. 
They  changed  places.  Pilate  seems  to  confess  his 
inferiority  by  his  very  uneasiness  and  by  the 
respect  that  breathes  through  all  his  utterances  to 
Jesus.  We  have  already  pointed  out  one  or  two 
of  these  during  the  reading  of  our  lesson.  But 
here  is  another,  a  sort  of  impulsive,  feverish,  not 
very  dignified  remonstrance  directed  against  Jesus 
because  He  keeps  silence  in  the  face  of  his  accusers. 
Pilate  wishes  to  show  at  his  best  in  the  presence 
of  these  chief  priests  and  scribes  who  are  watching 
him  with  jealous  eye,  ready  to  denounce  him  to  his 
own  imperial  master  if  he  does  not  do  what  they 
want.  Jesus  stands  quietly  but  majestically  in  the 
midst,  the  King  that  Pilate  had  confessed  Him  to 
be,  and  answers  never  a  word.  Then  petulantly 
the  governor  expostulates  in  the  terms  of  our  text, 

Si 


52       THE  MISUSE  OF  DIVINE  POWER 

"Answerest  Thou  nothing?  Speakest  Thou  not 
unto  me?  Knowest  Thou  not  that  I  have  power 
to  crucify  Thee  and  I  have  power  to  release  Thee?" 
Then  our  Lord  speaks.  He  knows  that  this  poor 
puppet  of  the  Roman  Emperor,  this  plaything  of 
the  scheming  priests,  has  no  power  at  all.  What 
is  more,  He  knows  that  the  governor  is  himself 
aware  of  it.  He  has  a  great  opportunity,  and  he 
is  flinging  it  aside.  Nay,  further,  He  dares  to  utter 
the  hard  saying  that  even  they,  like  Pilate,  must 
have  derived  their  power  for  mischief  from  the 
fact  that  it  was  first  a  power  for  good,  entrusted 
to  them  by  the  Lord  of  Glory  Himself.  "Thou 
couldest  have  no  power  at  all  against  Me  except 
it  were  given  thee  from  above." 

But  there  was  something  Pilate  could  have  done. 
He  might  have  been,  as  I  have  elsewhere  said,  the 
first  on  the  roll  of  the  Christian  martyrs.  He  had 
no  power  to  save  Jesus.  If  he  had  released  Him 
at  the  moment  it  would  only  have  been  to  take 
his  place  beside  Him  later.  He  had  not  moral 
courage  to  do  what  his  heart  prompted  him  to  do, 
and  he  felt  it  was  right  to  do,  speak  for  Jesus/ 
face  His  accusers,  because  he  knew  what  the  con- 
sequences would  be.  Had  it  been  otherwise  there 
would  have  been  a  fourth  cross  erected  upon  Calvary, 
nay,  perhaps  there  would  have  been  only  two,  no 
brigand  being  crucified  beside  Jesus,  but  only  the 
Roman  governor  who  tried  to  save  Him,  and  died 
a  martyr  for  his  nobleness. 


THE  MISUSE  OF  DIVINE  POWER       53 

Pilate  felt  that  Jesus  was  not  of  earth,  but  of 
heaven.  He  knew  He  was  a  Son  of  God,  though 
he  could  not  have  said  just  whence  His  authority 
was  derived,  but  felt,  as  we  all  feel,  the  power,  the 
grandeur,  the  majesty  of  His  character.  He  knew 
that  he  was  committing  a  foul  crime  in  handing 
Him  over  to  a  cruel  death.  Far  better  if  we  had 
been  able  to  speak  of  Pilate  to-night  as  the  first 
man  in  all  history  to  suffer  and  die  for  Christ.  He 
let  the  opportunity  go.  It  availed  him  nothing,  for 
if  tradition  is  to  be  believed,  his  end  was  tragical 
after  all.  But  the  Christ  knew  at  the  moment  what 
was  at  stake,  and  our  text  is  an  expostulation  to  the 
governor.  In  fact,  it  is  the  holding  up  of  an  ideal 
and  an  invitation  to  it.  "Thou  hast  no  power.  He 
that  delivered  Me  unto  thee  hath  the  greater  sin." 
Thine  is  but  the  power  which  will  bring  destruction 
it  may  be  upon  thyself,  the  power  of  choosing  the 
right  with  the  certainty  of  suffering  at  the  end.  As 
for  the  priests,  what  for  them?  Jesus  said  nothing 
to  them.  They  were  more  difficult  to  deal  with 
than  the  governor,  more  vicious  hypocrites  by  far. 
They  would  not  enter  into  the  judgment-hall  for 
fear  of  being  defiled,  but  they  were  doing  a 
hateful  and  abominable  thing  when  they  sent  Christ 
there  to  be  destroyed.  They  were  serving  their 
own  ends,  giving  vent  to  their  own  guilty  passions, 
and  in  doing  so  they  were  taking  upon  their  lips  the 
name  and  authority  of  God.  It  was  in  the  name  of 
religion  that  they  denounced  Him  to  their  own 


54       THE  MISUSE  OF  DIVINE  POWER 

people.  It  was  in  the  name  of  political  principle 
that  they  denounced  Him  to  the  Roman  governor. 
Knowing  so,  they  put  Him  out  of  the  way.  You 
can  feel  that  Pilate's  failure,  tragical  as  it  was,  was 
not  half  so  tragical  as  the  failure  of  those  priests  with 
the  power  that  had  been  given  unto  them  by  God. 
Leaders  and  teachers  of  the  people  as  they  were, 
they  well  understood  what  Jesus  meant  when  He 
said,  "He  that  delivered  Me  unto  thee  hath  the 
greater  sin."  For  they  deliberately  employed  the 
God-given  power,  knowing  that  they  were  doing  it 
to  destroy  the  God-sent  messenger.  They  must 
have  felt  who  Jesus  was,  but  even  if  they  did  not 
they  must  have  felt  what  Jesus  was,  and  yet  in  the 
face  of  their  knowledge  they  sent  Him  to  death, 
and  the  power  by  which  they  sent  Him  was  the 
power  that  they  claimed  to  be  divine. 

Power  is  always  a  dangerous  gift.  It  may  be 
used  for  high  ends,  or  it  may  be  employed  to  blast 
and  to  destroy  high  things.  The  late  Mr  Gladstone 
once  said,  nearly  at  the  close  of  his  life,  that  the 
tendency  of  power  was  always  to  demoralise  its 
possessor.  The  nineteenth  century,  he  asserted, 
had  in  this  country  been  a  century  of  political 
emancipation.  The  people,  using  the  word  in  its 
general  sense,  were  coming  to  their  own.  The 
power  was  now  placed  in  their  hands,  and  the 
question  the  great  Christian  statesman  put  to 
England  was,  How  are  the  people  going  to  use 
that  power?  for,  judging  by  the  lessons  of  history, 


THE  MISUSE  OF  DIVINE  POWER       55 

it  has  nearly  always  been  that  the  possession  of 
power  meant  anything  but  a  noble  use  thereof.  In 
the  French  Revolution,  for  example,  we  see  what 
power  in  popular  hands  was  capable  of  doing. 
People  began  by  coming  to  their  own.  Under  the 
influence  of  the  eloquence  of  a  Mirabeau  and  a 
Rousseau,  they  claimed  in  the  name  of  high  ideals 
to  dispossess  the  men  who  had  sinned  against  the 
God-given  trust.  Then  the  guillotine  was  set  up, 
and  rivers  of  blood  flowed  in  that  devoted  city,  the 
capital  of  that  fair  land.  When  I  was  there  a  few 
days  ago,  and  read,  written  upon  the  outside  of 
nearly  every  public  building,  "Liberty,  Equality, 
and  Fraternity,"  I  could  not  but  remember  that 
those  words  had  been  placed  there  in  the  time  of 
tumult  and  lust  for  blood,  all  done  by  the  power 
which  the  possessors  were  asserting  was  given  by 
high  destiny  for  high  use.  How  did  it  end?  We 
all  know  how  it  passed  into  the  hands  of  vicious 
and  villainous  men.  Perhaps  they  were  not  vicious 
or  villainous  before  they  received  it.  Few  can  bear 
to  be  the  trustees  of  power.  Power  in  the  hands 
of  religion  has  worked  some  of  the  most  diabolical 
evils  in  history,  not  to  speak  of  politics,  and  it  is 
all  the  more  dangerous  because  it  can  make  a  weapon 
of  religious  zeal.  One  of  the  saddest  chapters  in 
the  history  of  mankind  is  the  chapter  of  religious 
persecution.  We  who  are  accustomed  to  hear  it 
now  afar  off  can  scarcely  bear  to  tolerate  the  name 
of  the  system  which  used  it  for  the  worst,  but  there 


56       THE  MISUSE  OF  DIVINE  POWER 

are  few  of  us  who  can  claim  to  be  religious  at  all 
who  have  much  right  to  speak  in  this  regard.  When 
the  Congregationalism  of  which  so  many  of  us  in 
this  building  to-night  are  so  proud,  and  in  which  we 
have  so  great  confidence,  had  the  upper  hand,  it 
used  the  sword,  and  it  used  it  badly,  and  in  some 
cases  used  it  wickedly.  Is  this  spirit  gone?  Is  the 
danger  past  that  even  religion  cannot  bear  to  be 
the  possessor  of  power?  It  is  not  gone.  The 
danger  is  not  by  any  means  past.  By  this  door 
to-day  enter  hypocrisy,  cant,  religious  lies,  intoler- 
ance, bigotry,  self-righteousness,  a  disposition  to 
make  another  suffer  for  his  opinions.  And  most 
detestable  and  hateful  of  all,  it  frequently  happens 
that  such  pain  is  caused  and  such  evil  is  done  in 
the  name  of  God.  The  fires  of  hell  are  lighted  the 
moment  a  man  gives  rein  to  bad  passions,  and  names 
God  or  even  Christ  as  reason  for  his  doing  so. 
And  God  permits  it,  too.  A  great  gift  for  useful- 
ness may  become  a  curse,  and  often  has  done.  Too 
often  the  gift  is  not  buried,  like  the  talent  in  the 
earth.  It  is  put  out  to  usury  for  the  devil.  Surely 
there  must  be  a  reckoning  day  for  this,  the  worst 
of  all  sins,  the  deliberate  misuse  of  the  power  that 
comes  from  God. 

So  far,  perhaps,  most  of  us  have  felt  fairly  safe 
from  inclusion  in  this  indictment.  Most  of  us  feel 
that  we  have  never  had  much  power  to  misuse.  It 
is  my  strong  and  increasing  conviction  that  a  good 
deal  of  the  cant  and  hypocrisy  around  us  nowadays 


THE  MISUSE  OF  DIVINE  POWER       57 

is  to  be  found  amongst  those  who  imagine  them- 
selves to  be  freest  from  it.  I  need  hardly  instance 
in  an  audience  of  this  kind,  promiscuous  as  it  is, 
what  I  feel  to  be  the  mistaken  spirit  of  some  evan- 
gelistic Christians  of  the  present  hour.  We  have 
read  of,  and  we  constantly  hear  of,  the  fierceness 
and  the  intolerance  of  the  spirit  of  injured  Noncon- 
formity. Granted  the  injury,  I  deplore  with  you  the 
spirit  in  which  the  injury  is  too  often  met.  There 
is  a  certain  arrogance  and  self-righteousness  about  a 
good  deal  of  our  reasoning  and  our  protest  of  to-day 
that  I  would  to  God  could  be  swept  away  by  a 
nobler  spirit. 

To-night,  however,  I  am  addressing  men  who  are 
neither  Churchmen  nor  Nonconformists.  I  am 
addressing  some  who  can  afford  to  be  quizzical, 
because  they  are  of  the  great  crowd  that  looks  on. 
I  was  asked  this  morning  to  speak  a  word  to-night 
directly  to  commercial  men,  and  I  am  informed  that 
amongst  my  congregation  there  are  many  this 
evening  who  are  not  in  the  habit  of  giving  in  their 
adherence  to  any  particular  form  of  religious  pro- 
fession. Now,  it  would  be  perfectly  easy  while  I 
spoke  the  words  in  the  former  part  of  my  sermon 
to-night  for  you  to  be  saying  to  yourselves,  It  is 
quite  true;  we  know  how  vicious,  how  vitriolic  the 
religious  spirit  can  be  in  the  name  of  religious  zeal, 
how  men  can  give  vent  to  their  worst  natures  in 
the  name  of  the  highest  principle,  but  thank 
goodness  we  do  not  belong  to  that  particular  set. 


58      THE  MISUSE  OF  DIVINE  POWER 

We  are  in  the  position  of  being  able  to  say,  "A 
plague  on  both  your  houses."  Well,  now,  I 
would  with  all  respect  point  out  to  you,  address- 
ing you  as  a  man  to  men,  and  not  as  one 
on  any  special  pedestal  of  authority — point 
out  to  you  that  in  this  principle  you  are 
only  entitled  to  repudiate  a  lower  in  the  name 
of  a  higher.  I  often  feel  that  the  man  of  the 
world,  who  is  rather  proud  than  otherwise  of  the 
name,  is  by  no  means  entitled  to  denounce  excess 
of  religious  zeal  or  the  unloveliness  of  the  average 
religious  character.  There  are  not  very  many  things 
so  dangerous  as  the  spirit  of  the  cynic  engaged  in 
rebuking  sin.  And  there  is  a  good  deal  of  it.  There 
is  a  section  of  the  secular  Press,  which,  pretending 
to  be  superior  to  all  creeds  and  denominations,  look- 
ing down  upon  them  all  and  smiling  at  them  all,  sets 
up  an  ideal  which  in  spirit  is  anything  but  an  im- 
provement on  that  they  would  condemn.  Have  you 
ever  heard  the  cynic  in  private  life  pointing  out 
another  man's  evil  motive,  and  have  you  not  felt 
that  there  was  something  poisonous  about  his  very 
presence?  The  cynic  is  a  danger  in  any  society. 
The  cynic  is  a  special  danger  when  he  poses  as  the 
destroyer  of  false  ideals.  He  has  nothing  but  a 
worse  to  put  in  their  place. 

Now,  brethren,  I  put  my  question  to  you  again. 
As  you  are  only  entitled  to  repudiate  a  lower  in  the 
name  of  a  higher,  I  would  ask  you  what  are  you 
doing  with  your  life?  You  who  have,  as  most  of 


THE  MISUSE  OF  DIVINE  POWER       59 

you  have,  a  respect  for  the  name  of  Jesus,  but  very 
little  respect  for  His  so-called  followers,  what  are 
you  doing  with  God's  gift  of  power  as  it  has  been 
afforded  unto  you?  It  is  easy  for  you  to  imagine 
yourselves  to  be  standing  on  the  side  of  Christ,  as  it 
were,  in  that  historic  scene  in  Pilate's  hall  and  to  be 
speaking  for  the  Master  rather  than  to  be  taking 
your  seat  upon  the  judge's  bench.  Nay,  it  is  only 
too  possible  that  from  the  judge's  bench  you  may 
pass  to  the  ranks  of  Annas  and  Caiaphas  and  the 
crowd.  And  the  man  who  refuses  to  have  anything  to 
do  with  religion  because  he  can  see  nothing  that  is 
noble,  no  high  incentive  in  the  religious  example  of 
those  about  him,  puts  himself  in  the  spirit  of  the 
priests  who  condemned  Jesus  because  of  the  envy 
they  felt  for  a  higher  than  their  own.  If  you  can  see 
nothing  admirable  in  the  life  of  the  Christian  Church, 
I  would  ask  you  what  are  you  putting  in  its  place? 
Have  you  a  higher  ideal  of  manhood  and  life  and 
love  and  duty,  and  are  you  living  to  it?  Because  if 
you  are,  then,  and  not  till  then,  are  you  entitled  with 
authority  to  say,  "A  plague  on  this  or  that  false  ideal 
which  assumes  upon  the  lips  of  its  professors  the  name 
of  God." 

A  little  while  ago  we  were  visiting  Switzerland. 
Some  of  our  party  began  to  ascend  one  day  one 
of  the  highest  peaks  in  that  particular  district  where 
we  were  staying.  You  have  all  heard  of  the 
edelweiss,  a  plant  that  grows  usually  in  almost 
inaccessible  spots  in  these  mountain  regions.  I 


noticed  that  some  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  district 
were  selling  the  edelweiss  in  the  valleys  before  we 
began  to  ascend  the  mountain  at  all,  and,  like  the 
rest,  I  bought  a  bunch  of  it.  When  I  reached  home 
I  found  on  one  of  my  bookshelves  a  poem  descriptive 
of  the  ideal,  the  strenuous  ideal,  of  the  man  who 
gathers  his  edelweiss  from  the  mountain  top  and  the 
craggy  steep  and  the  inaccessible  crevasse,  higher, 
far  higher  than  the  common  earth,  high  above  our 
ordinary  levels  of  daily  life.  I  thought  to  myself, 
"I  got  my  edelweiss  easily.  Someone  else  gathered 
it,  I  but  carried  it  home."  And  as  a  general  rule 
and  all  through  history  you  will  find  there  has  been 
some  hero  gathering  the  edelweiss.  It  has  been 
easy  for  other  men  to  take  it  home  afterwards. 
Some  have  laboured,  some  have  suffered'  we,  their 
inheritors,  have  but  entered  into  their  labours. 
How  seldom  you  meet  the  heroic  temper  anywhere. 
How  seldom  you  meet  the  man  who  is  prepared  to 
lose  for  the  advocacy  of  a  principle.  How  seldom 
you  meet  a  man  who  will  shoulder  responsibility  and 
go  bravely  forward  for  an  ideal  though  he  be  the 
only  one  to  profess  it,  and  how  much  more  seldom 
you  find  a  man  who  will  do  that  in  a  Christlike  spirit. 
Oh,  it  is  difficult  to  be  intense  and  at  the  same 
time  to  be  tolerant.  It  is  difficult  to  be  in  deadly 
earnest  and  at  the  same  time  to  remain  benevolent. 
Too  often  when  we  have  scaled  a  certain  height, 
and  seen  a  certain  vision  and  garnered  a  certain 
harvest,  then  we  have  begun  to  trifle  with  the  ideal 


THE  MISUSE  OF  DIVINE  POWER       61 

and  confess  it  with  our  lips  when  the  spirit  of  it  has 
gone.  It  is  as  if  we  had  handed  Christ  over  to 
be  crucified  afresh  and  in  so  doing  had  given  back 
the  power  granted  to  us.  Nay,  worse  than  that, 
misused  it,  employed  it  for  other  ends  than  God 
gave  it  to  us  at  the  first. 

You  have  your  special  dangers,  my  fellow  men, 
business  men,  though  you  are  a  fine  manly  set  of 
men — to  take  you  as  a  whole.  May  I  ask  what  your 
dangers  are  and  ask  you  whether  you  can  answer  the 
question  along  with  me?  The  first  you  will  say  is 
obviously  the  rush  to  make  money.  Nothing  of  the 
kind.  It  is  thundered  in  the  pulpit  and  in  the 
religious  press  to-day  as  the  greatest  danger  of  our 
time,  the  rush  to  grab  and  to  get.  It  is  not,  there 
is  a  danger  anterior  to  that.  It  is  the  coarsening  of 
our  aspirations,  it  is  the  fading  of  idealism  from  our 
national  life,  and  you  commercial  men  are  specially 
prone  to  it  if  you  will  permit  me  without  offensive- 
ness  to  say  so.  All  men  become  like  their  pursuits. 
A  man's  thoughts  determine  him.  As  he  thinketh 
in  his  heart  so  is  he.  You  can  be  very  very  selfish 
and  apologise  to  yourself  for  that  of  which  you 
know  you  are  guilty  by  saying  it  is  not  possible  to  be 
anything  else  and  yet  be  a  successful  business  man. 
You  have  very  little  time,  I  know,  to  read,  to  think, 
to  pray.  You  are  a  little  inclined  to  be  con- 
temptuous of  these  things  and  of  a  man  in  earnest 
too.  If  there  is  a  type  of  character  that  you  detest 
more  than  another  it  is  that  of  the  religious  pro- 


62       THE  MISUSE  OF  DIVINE  POWER 

fessor  who  is  living  no  better  life  than  you.  Now, 
to  be  honest,  I  would  ask  you  to  look  beneath  your 
own  profession  and  see  if  you  are  not  sometimes 
guilty  of  that  of  which  you  accuse  him.  You  have 
power.  Up  to  a  certain  point  you  have  used  it  well. 
You  have  a  type  of  manhood  to  which  you  give  the 
term  of  approval.  But  are  you  using  your  power 
for  higher  ends  than  those  with  which  you  began 
to  gain  it?  It  is  God's  trust  to  you.  Are  you  using 
it  as  well  to-day  as  when  it  was  first  given,  or  are 
you  using  it  to  crucify  the  Christ  in  yourself?  You 
do  this  every  time  you  deliberately  act  from  a  base 
or  a  sordid  motive.  Materialism  on  a  petty  scale  is 
the  bane  of  a  good  many  of  the  men  I  am  addressing 
to-night.  You  may  be  guilty  of  putting  your  own  soul 
to  death,  and  all  the  while  have  the  spirit  of  self-satis- 
fied superiority  about  it.  The  religious  man  does 
not  seem  to  be  so  very  detestable  and  contemptible, 
after  all,  when  you  bring  him  into  the  presence  of 
an  ideal  like  yours,  for  what,  after  all,  is  the  world 
better  for  the  man  who  condemns  the  failure  of 
another  to  live  to  a  high  ideal,  which  he  himself 
never  dreams  of  even  trying  to  reach  ? 

We  will  go  a  little  closer  to  the  subject.  Here 
is  another  danger  of  the  commercial  man.  You 
have,  it  is  true,  a  sort  of  good-fellowship,  a  notion 
of  a  good  comrade,  but  of  what  kind  should  we  say 
a  good  fellow  should  be?  It  is  not  true  that  the 
religious  talker  sins  against  the  social  ideal,  as  you 
sometimes  accuse  him  of  doing,  and  yet  I  do  not 


THE  MISUSE  OF  DIVINE  POWER       63 

want  you  to  be  a  religious  talker.  Is  not  this  true, 
however,  that  very  often  our  good-fellowship  means 
that  every  man  in  a  certain  company  is  talking  and 
is  acting  below  his  own  habitual  level?  We  seem 
ashamed  of  moral  dignity.  Let  those  who  have 
never  been  guilty  of  falling  below  what  they  know 
to  be  their  best  selves  when  in  the  society  of  other 
men  just  pass  this  by,  it  does  not  concern  them.  But 
unless  I  am  mistaken,  I  have  heard  in  the  presence 
of  commercial  men  and  professional  men,  too,  and 
the  ordinary  man  about  town,  I  have  heard  conver- 
sation which  I  felt  sure  was  below  the  level,  the 
ordinary  level,  of  every  man  in  that  company.  I 
have  seen  young  fellows  whose  character  was  being 
blighted,  and  blighted  by  the  example  of  their  elders 
and  no  man  protested,  and  I  have  felt  that  in  the 
presence  of  ideals  which  were  the  exact  opposite  of 
those  in  which  you  were  trained  from  your  childhood 
some  of  the  men  who  knew  better  and  were  living 
better  might  have  intervened  to  save  a  lad  from 
corruption.  Not  the  religious  talker,  again  I  say, 
is  wanted.  We  want  the  man  who  is  prepared  to 
live  up  to  the  high  moral  standard  that  his  conscience 
feels  to  be  the  best  he  has  ever  seen.  The  thing 
to  be  feared  to-day  is  not  wrong  religious  notions, 
it  is  moral  flabbiness.  The  thing  to  be  dreaded 
to-day  is  not  vicious,  petty  religious  intolerance,  it 
is  that  men  will  let  go  the  standard  that  conscience 
has  set  up.  The  danger  to-day  is  that  men  cease  to 
care  about  certain  offences  against  righteousness;  the 


64       THE  MISUSE  OF  DIVINE  POWER 

danger  is  lest  fineness  of  feeling  be  at  a  discount; 
the  danger  to  such  men  as  you  is,  I  am  afraid,  that 
sometimes  you  neglect  the  higher  duty  in  the  pur- 
suit of  the  lower.  Are  you  not  guilty,  then,  of 
deliberate  sin,  not  against  religious  creeds,  but 
against  what  is  written  in  letters  of  fire  on  every 
man's  heart,  the  moral  standard  of  Jesus  Christ? 
George  Eliot  said,  some  time  near  to  her  death, 
that  she  started  life  with  three  ideals,  three  points 
of  anchorage — God,  immortality,  and  duty.  She  said 
the  third  was  the  only  one  that  she  held  most  certain 
at  the  end.  God  seemed  to  fade  out  of  her  life, 
belief  in  immortality  went,  too,  but  to  duty  she  had 
clung  to  the  last,  and  for  her  duty  she  was  prepared 
to  suffer  and  die.  Robertson  of  Brighton,  at  the 
religious  crisis  of  his  life,  as  most  of  you  know, 
spoke  of  his  experience  in  similar  terms.  He  was 
not  quite  sure  what  creed  embodied  the  truth,  if 
indeed  any  did  at  all,  but  of  one  thing  he  was 
perfectly  certain,  that  the  eternal  laws  of  righteous- 
ness claimed  his  obedience,  and  he  felt  at  the  worst 
it  was  better  to  be  pure  than  impure,  better  to  be 
clean  than  unclean,  better  to  strive  honestly  and 
earnestly  after  the  highest  he  had  seen  than  to  let 
these  things  go,  and  speak  as  if  they  did  not  matter. 
Duty  is  a  creed  that  will  lead  you  into  the  fulness 
of  truth.  Follow  the  divine  manhood  at  whatever 
cost.  Keep  your  heart  pure  and  your  standard  high. 
I  know  of  the  fierceness  of  the  struggle  in  which 
so  few  of  you  succeed.  I  know  how  little  you  have 


THE  MISUSE  OF  DIVINE  POWER       65 

to  hope  ever  to  become  men  of  wealth  and  power  as 
the  world  counts  it.  If  there  be  one  or  two  rich  men 
here  to-night  there  can  hardly  be  more,  probably  all 
the  rest  of  you  who  are  busy  in  the  ordinary  business 
battle  never  expect  to  do  more  than  secure  a  com- 
petence. What  I  would  ask  you  to  do  is  this,  Never 
be  crushed  underneath  material  burdens,  no  matter 
what  they  may  be.  Keep  your  soul  clean  and  your 
vision  clear.  And  it  is  possible,  nay,  it  is  more  than 
possible,  it  is  certain,  God  has  given  you  the  power 
of  doing  it,  and  for  that  power  you  are  responsible 
to  Him. 

Take  that  lad,  now,  who  will  be  with  you  to- 
night when  you  get  back  to  your  hotel,  and  in 
your  commercial  room  will  be  listening  to  his  elders, 
to  the  ideals  that  you  have  set  before  him  as  being 
proper  and  ordinary  for  business  men.  This  lad 
has  just  come  from  a  country  home.  He  knows 
very  little  of  the  great  world.  He  talks  as  if  he 
did.  He  will  try  to  conceal  his  ignorance  from  you 
for  fear  of  being  laughed  at,  and  presently  perhaps 
he  may  be  laughed  at  because  he  has  some  of  the 
associations,  some  of  the  vestiges,  some  of  the  in- 
fluences of  a  religious  home  still  clinging  about  him. 
You  find  him  out.  Do  you  make  it  easier  for  that 
lad  to  live  the  right  life,  the  good  life,  the  straight 
and  pure  life,  or  do  you  make  it  harder  by  the 
atmosphere  into  which  he  has  come?  Come,  now, 
business  men,  face  this  fact  together.  Some  day 
you  hear  that  he  has  gone  wrong — somebody  is 


66      THE  MISUSE  OF  DIVINE  POWER 

going  wrong  every  day  from  such  concerns  as  yours 
and  such  ordinary  walks  of  life,  as  you  know  best. 
This  lad  goes  wrong — drink  or  women,  or  both. 
Then  you  have  to  ask  the  question,  What  sent 
him  wrong?  and  when  you  meet  him  in  your 
little  society,  to  take  up  the  old-time  conversation 
and  to  advocate  the  old-time  ideals,  and  to  make 
the  old-time  denunciations  of  other  people  whom 
you  accuse  of  being  canting  hypocrites,  you  have 
to  account  for  that  young  man's  ruin.  You  say 
his  vices  destroyed  him.  True  they  did,  but 
something  destroyed  him  before  the  vices  gripped 
him,  and  that  was  the  atmosphere,  the  moral  atmos- 
phere, of  the  business  house  into  which  he  was 
introduced.  Remember  this,  the  vices  were  but 
as  Pilate  on  the  bench.  They  had  power,  to  be 
sure  they  had,  and  he  could  have  defied  them  if 
he  liked.  God  had  given  him  power  greater  than 
they,  but  the  vices  were  only  the  Pilate,  and  you 
may  have  been  the  Caiaphas.  What  ideal  did 
you  set  before  him?  He  was  weaker  than 
you;  you  could  go  to  the  very  verge  of  ruin  and 
turn  back.  It  was  not  the  wine,  it  was  not 
the  women,  it  was  his  associates  that  destroyed 
his  life,  as  they  are  being  destroyed  in  hundreds 
and  thousands  throughout  this  great  land  of 
England  to-day,  and  it  is  no  cant  and  hypocrisy 
I  am  talking  now.  Manhood  and  only  manhood 
can  save  him.  If  there  is  one  thing  more  than 
another  that  we  need  in  England  to-day,  it  is 


THE  MISUSE  OF  DIVINE  POWER       67 

tolerant,  open-hearted  manhood,  manhood  beneath 
which  the  weak  can  shelter.  Manhood  is  a  trust 
from  God.  Manhood  is  a  God-given  power,  and 
for  our  manhood  we  must  give  account  at  last  when 
we  stand  before  the  great  white  throne. 

Let  me  tell  you  a  case  now  in  point  where  manhood 
has  come  to  the  rescue.  I  have  a  friend  in  Edinburgh, 
a  well-known  preacher,  getting  on  in  years.  I  will 
not  name  him,  but  if  you  choose  to  guess  his  name 
I  shall  not  be  offended.  It  happened  on  one 
occasion  the  following  incident  came  under  his 
notice,  indeed,  formed  part  of  his  experience.  A 
commercial  man  was  in  the  habit  of  going  to  listen. 
One  Sunday  it  struck  him  that  the  preacher  was 
discouraged  about  something,  did  not  seem  to  be 
himself,  failed  in  giving  his  message  with  his  usual 
power.  So  he  thought,  after  having  heard  him  for 
so  many  years  he  was  entitled  to  turn  comforter 
himself.  He  made  his  way  to  the  preacher  on  the 
Monday  morning  to  tell  him  this.  First  about 
himself.  "Years  ago,"  he  said,  "under  the  in- 
spiration of  your  ministry  I  made  up  my  mind  to  do 
two  things.  First,  I  would  buy  a  new  book  every 
week  and  I  would  read  it  to  keep  my  soul  from 
being  fossilised  by  the  things  with  which  I  have  to 
deal  day  by  day,  to  keep  before  me  the  divine  ideal. 
But,  secondly,  I  made  up  my  mind  that  I  should  not 
be  merely  passive  amongst  the  men  with  whom  I 
have  to  deal,  but  if  I  could  bring  any  man  to  the 
better  life  by  my  example,  by  my  invitation,  it 


68       THE  MISUSE  OF  DIVINE  POWER 

should  be  done.  I  have  never  posed  as  being  a 
man  of  prominently  worthy  religious  character,  but 
now  and  then  I  have  asked  a  friend  to  step  with  me 
here  and  listen  to  you.  I  thought  I  would  come 
this  morning  and  tell  you  that  last  night  you  gripped 
a  man's  conscience  and  changed  a  man's  life,  and  I 
think  God  must  be  glad."  "Well,"  replied  my 
friend,  "you  have  told  me  that,  now  I  have  some- 
thing to  tell  you."  And  he  opened  a  drawer  and 
showed  this  man  of  commerce  a  dozen  or  twenty 
letters  received  from  commercial  men  who  had  been 
brought  to  that  place  of  worship  by  him,  and  who 
said  it  was  not  merely  on  his  invitation  that  they 
came,  but  on  his  life.  They  felt  his  goodness, 
his  unselfishness,  his  worth,  his  Christlike  char- 
acter, although  he  seldom  talked  lip-language  about 
Christ.  Here  was  an  ideal,  practically  it  is  the  only 
ideal  that  I  care  to  commend  to  you. 

I  care  very  little,  business  men,  whether  you 
believe  in  my  doctrine  or  no,  I  care  a  great  deal 
whether  you  believe  in  the  moral  standard  I  have 
set  before  you  or  no.  The  one  thing  that  matters 
is  right  living  and  the  only  thing  about  which  you 
and  I  will  be  asked  in  the  great  day  will  be  how  we 
have  used  our  life.  Because  we  are  not  alone,  we 
do  not  stand  or  fall  to  ourselves  and  ourselves  only. 
All  around  us  there  are  lives  that  touch  ours.  An 
atmosphere  has  to  be  created,  created  by  manhood 
at  its  best,  and  you  can  live  the  Christ  life  with  the 
simplest  faith  in  Him  without  making  any  very  loud 


THE  MISUSE  OF  DIVINE  POWER       69 

profession  of  doctrine  at  all.  And  yet  I  tell  you 
that  to-day,  just  as  much  as  in  that  old-time  day  of 
which  we  have  been  reading  to-night,  the  trial  is 
going  forward  in  the  judgment-hall  and  we  are 
either  standing  with  Christ  upon  the  floor  or  sitting 
with  Pilate  upon  the  bench,  or  we  are  with  the 
gibbering,  hateful  priests  outside.  In  which 
company  of  the  three  are  you  and  I  to  be  found? 
I  would  like  to  be  with  that  commercial  man  in  the 
great  day  of  reckoning  and  revelation,  for  when  he 
and  the  Master  meet  face  to  face  Jesus  will  say, 
"Well  done,  good  and  faithful  servant,  enter  thou 
into  the  joy  of  thy  Lord."  Will  He  say  it,  does 
He  say  it,  can  He  say  it  to  you  and  to  me?  He  hath 
granted  us  a  great  trust.  Not  a  man  of  us  can 
repudiate  the  knowledge  of  it.  We  are  placed 
where  we  are  for  no  trifling  reason,  but  that  we 
may  witness  for  God  and  right  and  truth.  Are  we 
doing  it,  or  are  we  already  judged  and  condemned? 


A  FORFEITED  GIFT 


THIS  sermon  was  preached  to  a  backslider.     1  have  sorrowfully  to 
confess  that  it  was  preached  in  vain. 


"  He  wist  not  that  the  Lord  had  departed  from  him." — JUDGES  xvi.  zo. 

EVERY  country  has  its  particular  accumulation  of 
legend  and  tradition  and  folk-lore.  Our  own,  for 
instance,  has  its  Song  of  Beowulf;  its  legend 
concerning  a  character  who  is  certainly  historic, 
though  we  know  very  little  about  him  —  King 
Alfred ;  and  the  stories  in  which  children  delight 
and  which  the  adults  have  not  forgotten  concerning 
the  famous  outlaw  Robin  Hood.  Switzerland  has 
its  William  Tell,  though  how  much  that  is  told 
about  him  to  the  modern  tourist  is  the  truth,  who 
shall  say?  In  Germany  it  is  Friedrich  Barbarossa, 
Norway  has  its  King  Olaf ;  Denmark  its  hero  who 
lies  asleep  until  the  hour  of  Denmark's  greatest 
peril,  and  then  he  is  to  awake  and  save  it.  Pro- 
bably all  the  beautiful  and  interesting  stories  that 
have  gathered  around  characters  like  these  have  had 
their  origin  in  some  fact.  Some  outstanding  man 
has  impressed  himself  upon  the  imagination  of  his 
time  by  the  grandeur  of  his  achievements,  and  his 
memory  has  not  been  allowed  to  die. 

The  story  which  has  been  written  around  our 
text  is  just  one  of  these.  It  belongs  to  the  half- 
historic  legend  and  folk-lore  of  Israel  I  do  not 

73 


74  A  FORFEITED  GIFT 

regard  it  as  literal  history,  but  there  is  a  truth  to 
be  disentangled — disengaged  is  a  better  word — 
from  its  setting.  The  modern  mind  would,  almost 
without  investigation,  repudiate  the  thaumaturgical 
element  here.  That  any  man  was  ever  endowed 
with  miraculous  power  because  he  was  a  Nazarite, 
unshaven  from  birth,  seems  to  be  out  of  character 
— certainly  it  was  out  of  harmony — with  the  facts 
of  ordinary  everyday  experience.  But  cannot  the 
plain,  stolid,  Anglo-Saxon  intellect  see  beneath  the 
imagery  here  and  take  away  the  dress  in  which  this 
hero  of  old  time  is  presented  to  us  ?  Here  is  a  man 
with  a  gift — that  is  one  prime  fact — raised  up  for  a 
great  work,  and  he  must  have  been  faithful  to  it 
up  to  a  point,  or  Israel  would  not  have  remembered 
him.  But  he  became  false  to  it,  by  arrogant  self- 
indulgence.  And  the  worst  of  it  was  he  is  not  the 
only  one  in  history  of  whom  it  may  be  said  that  the 
gift  departed  from  him,  that  his  vocation  was  forfeited 
and  at  the  end  he  himself  was  ignorant  of  the 
fact. 

All  of  you  can  see  therefore  in  my  text  a  world  of 
meaning,  always  true  to  human  experience  as  you 
and  I  know  it  whether  we  retain  or  whether  we 
dismiss  the  particular  setting  of  this  life-story. 

Before  passing  on  I  would  remind,  at  any  rate,  the 
younger  members  of  my  congregation,  that  the  Bible 
and  particularly  the  Old  Testament  is  always  to  be 
read  in  the  light  of  Christ.  Three-quarters  of  the 
questions  you  ask  concerning  its  difficulties  would 


A  FORFEITED  GIFT  75 

disappear  if  you  would  just  remember  that  simple 
principle.  Whether  it  be  its  miracles  or  its  moral 
standard,  you  must  think  of  the  Bible  and  what  it 
has  to  tell  in  the  terms  of  the  Christ  and  what  we 
know  of  Him. 

Now  we  cannot  approach  even  this  story  without 
taking  with  us  something  that  we  have  learned  from 
Calvary,  and  when  with  our  knowledge  of  Jesus  we 
come  to  investigate  the  life-story  of  Samson,  the 
lesson  is  not  far  to  seek.  Painters  and  poets  have 
made  it  their  theme,  because  of  the  tragedy  with 
which  this  great  life  closed,  and  I  suppose  most  of 
you  here  present  are  familiar  with  the  great  poem  of 
one  of  the  greatest  of  our  national  prophets,  upon  this 
theme,  the  fall,  the  failure,  and  the  death  of  one 
who  might  have  been  a  mighty  power  for  good  in 
the  history  of  the  world. 

Up  to  a  point,  as  I  have  said,  he  was.  Beyond 
that  point  he  failed,  and  did  not  see  that  he  was 
serving  himself  instead  of  his  Maker.  He  fell. 
The  fall  and  the  death  of  Samson  are  illustrative  of 
a  recurrent  human  experience.  Unfaithfulness  to  a 
divine  gift  results  in  its  withdrawal.  In  a  sense  all 
men  are  divinely  gifted,  though  their  gifts  differ 
both  in  quality  and  in  degree,  which  is  precisely 
what  we  ought  to  expect.  No  man  in  this  congre- 
gation to-night  is  precisely  in  characteristics,  personal 
history,  and  destiny,  what  anyone  else  is  or  ever  has 
been.  You  are  each  of  you  unique  in  the  history  of 
mankind.  There  is  a  divine  inbreathing  in  every 


76  A  FORFEITED  GIFT 

soul  that  comes  to  moral  consciousness  in  this  world. 
Some  characters  stand  out  from  their  fellows,  but 
perhaps  their  prominence  is  more  apparent  than  real. 
Who  knows  what  the  perspective  of  heaven  would 
show  concerning  the  comparative  worth  of  the  men 
and  women  who  are  gathered  before  me  in  this 
house  to-night,  and  whose  very  names  I  do  not 
know?  In  history,  however,  and  particularly  in 
Bible  history,  we  are  well  acquainted  with  examples 
of  the  principle  I  have  just  been  trying  to  place 
before  you.  Suppose  Samson  had  lived  and  died 
like  the  great  lawgiver  of  Israel — who  can  think 
about  Moses  without  believing  his  estimate  of  man- 
hood is  better  for  that  life  f  Joshua,  who,  inspired 
by  a  greater  than  himself,  hearing  his  divine  call, 
"Moses  my  servant  is  dead,  now  therefore  arise," 
rose  captain  of  Israel,  faithful  to  the  call,  was  faith- 
ful to  the  last,  in  his  dying  hour,  calling  Israel  before 
him,  "  Choose  you  this  day  whom  ye  will  serve." 
Elijah,  the  most  picturesque  of  them  all,  a  solitary 
figure  in  a  decadent  age,  defying  all  the  untoward 
tendencies  of  his  time,  witnessing  for  God  and  in  the 
sublimity  of  his  death  impressing  Israel  for  good, 
like  Samson,  but  oh,  in  what  a  different  fashion  ! 
Elijah  wrought  more  by  his  death  than  he  had 
wrought  by  his  life,  a  purification  of  morals  and 
manners  that  his  testimony  had  never  managed  to 
accomplish.  The  removal  of  Elijah  from  the  earthly 
scene  shamed  and  impelled  Israel  to  reform. 

Suppose  that  Samson's  life  and  death  had  been  as 


A  FORFEITED  GIFT  77 

these — for  he  was  called  to  the  first  place  just  as 
these  were  ?  He  had  his  opportunity  and  he  put  it 
away.  "  He  wist  not  that  the  Lord  had  departed 
from  him."  Vocation  may  be  forfeited,  and  there 
is  no  tragedy  so  sad,  no  end  so  melancholy,  as  that 
in  which  a  man  discovers  that  he  has  been  living  for 
long  without  God  and  without  the  gift  that  might 
have  led  him  to  great  things.  As  in  the  sacred,  so 
in  the  so-called  secular  history  of  the  world — is 
there  any  secular  history  ?  I  venture  to  believe 
that  there  is  not.  We  take  our  stand  by  the  side 
of  Socrates,  who  never  heard  of  Israel's  God,  but 
lived  and  died  in  witness  of  the  highest  that  he  had 
ever  seen,  and  even  Moses  did  not  die  a  nobler  death 
than  he;  taking,  as  he  said,  a  leap  in  the  dark, 
but  he  was  faithful  to  what  he  knew  to  be 
the  divine  charisma  granted  to  him.  St  Bernard, 
in  what  we  are  now  accustomed  to  call  the  dark 
ages,  a  simple  monk,  rejects  all  the  honours  of 
the  world,  and  when  no  one  else  dares  the  task, 
stands  before  the  crowned  monarch  who  had  been 
unfaithful  in  one  of  the  most  sacred  ties  which 
God  has  ever  ordained  to  bind  heart  with  heart  and 
soul  with  soul.  This  king,  because  he  was  a  king, 
would  have  entered  the  sanctuary,  but  was  forbidden 
and  repelled  by  the  stern  monk  who  shook  Europe 
and  the  world.  There  was  a  divine  gift  upon 
St  Bernard,  and  we  feel,  we  see,  we  know  the 
grandeur  of  the  man.  He  was  called,  and  he 
was  not  unfaithful  to  the  call. 


78  A  FORFEITED  GIFT 

Compare  these  with  characters  whose  testing,  in 
some  ways  as  great,  ended  in  a  sadness  that  makes 
us  for  pity  bow  the  head.  Cranmer,  standing  at 
the  stake  to  die  for  his  faith — how  much  more 
nobly  he  might  have  died  if  he  had  not  had  to  hold 
in  the  flame  the  unworthy  hand  that  signed  his  re- 
cantation. And  Wolsey,  as  Mr  Hughes  was  telling 
us  a  few  nights  ago,  rising  to  the  first  place  in  the 
kingdom,  and  then  forfeiting  it,  not  because  he  was 
capable  of  the  fearless  testimony  of  a  Bernard,  not 
because  he  showed  the  courage  of  an  Elijah  upon 
Carmel,  but  because  he  halted  between  two  opinions, 
not  knowing  which  way  the  balance  of  royal  favour 
might  incline.  Hear  his  dying  words,  "  O,  Cromwell, 
Cromwell,  had  I  served  my  God  as  I  have  served  my 
king,  He  would  not  have  given  me  over  in  my 
grey  hairs."  Both  Cranmer  and  Wolsey  named 
the  name  of  God  to  the  last,  claimed  Him  as  upon 
their  side,  spoke  as  it  were  in  the  language  of  the 
Christ,  knowing  not,  never  reflecting  that  the  spirit 
of  the  Lord  had  departed  from  them.  Oh,  history 
is  full,  it  teems  with  instances  in  which  men  put  off 
the  day  of  reckoning,  deceiving  themselves,  forfeit- 
ing the  gift  divine,  trampling  upon  their  own  oppor- 
tunities. They  wist  not  that  the  day  of  the  Lord 
was  at  hand  and  that  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  had 
departed  from  them. 

At  first  sight  it  might  seem  as  though  these  con- 
siderations had  little  value  for  such  an  audience  as  I 
have  present  before  me  to-night.  But  such  is  far 


A  FORFEITED  GIFT  79 

from  being  the  case.  God's  gift  is  bestowed  upon 
every  man  in  his  degree  and  for  his  particular  work. 
You  have  had  your  gracious  opportunity,  your  season 
of  vision,  and  whatever  kind  of  man  you  are  it  will 
be  of  no  use  in  the  great  day  of  reckoning  for  you 
to  deny  the  moment  when  the  charisma  came.  There 
is  a  judgment  of  surprises,  it  is  true.  "Lord,  when 
saw  we  Thee  sick  or  in  prison  or  in  necessity  and 
did  not  minister  unto  Thee  ? "  And  the  answer 
may  come — "  Inasmuch  as  ye  did  it  not  unto  one  of 
the  least  of  these  my  brethren,  ye  did  it  not  unto 
Me." 

Do  we  know  the  opportunity  when  it  comes? 
Can  we  recognise  the  voice  eternal  ?  Are  we  clear  as 
to  the  moment  when  we  stop  our  ears  and  close  our 
eyes  and  turn  our  feet  from  the  pathway  of  duty  ? 
Men  mourn  the  consequences  of  sin  more  than  they 
mourn  the  sin.  We  hear  men  lamenting  that  they 
did  not  see  more  clearly  that  the  wages  of  sin  was 
agony  and  shame.  "Oh,"  they  say,  "how  strangely 
is  this  moral  universe  ordered.  We  are  not  told 
about  the  other  side  of  the  wrong-doing."  Every 
man  buys  his  experience  for  himself,  and  when  he 
finds  it  hard  murmurs  in  surprise,  he  did  not  know. 
One  thing  you  all  know.  You  know  that  wrong 
is  wrong.  You  know  with  what  motive  you  do  the 
evil  service.  You  know  for  what  object  you  leave 
a  duty  undone,  you  know  when  you  juggle  with 
the  things  that  are  necessary  to  true  living,  you 
know  when  you  try  to  compromise  with  the  ideals 


8o  A  FORFEITED  GIFT 

that  were  given  to  you.  You  know  perfectly  well 
if  this  gift  that  is  in  you  is  debased,  and  when  you 
know  it  you  have  rightly  judged  in  the  day  of  dread 
discovery  that  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  has  departed. 

Now  let  me  examine  at  closer  quarters  what  I 
have  been  trying  to  set  before  you  thus  plainly.  It 
is  sometimes  said  that  the  word  of  the  prophet 
has  no  hearing  in  these  days.  Men  are  indifferent 
to  the  claims  of  the  Christ.  God  has  but  little 
place  in  their  lives.  To  a  certain  extent  that  is 
perfectly  true.  There  are  many  men  in  this  church 
to-night  who  hardly  know  why  they  are  here — some 
it  may  be  out  of  idle  curiosity,  some  prepared  to 
scoff  at  what  they  see  and  hear,  some  to  whom  the 
practices  of  devotion  have  no  reality  and  no  mean- 
ing, there  is  nothing  in  their  lives  upon  which  these 
things  can  take  hold.  Now,  these  are  the  very  men 
to  whom  I  have  something  to  say.  I  do  not  begin 
protesting  about  my  creed  and  urge  you  without 
argument  and  without  sympathy  and  without  ex- 
planation to  accept  mine.  No,  no,  I  have  another 
way.  I  want  to  read  yours,  and  ask  you  whether 
any  man  needs  to  argue  about  any  justification  of 
the  creed  that  is  written  in  letters  of  fire  within 
your  own  soul. 

Now,  my  friends,  is  it  true  of  the  men  before 
me  who  reject  God  and  Christ  and  the  Bible,  and 
with  it  all  the  ideals  and  associations  that  belong  of 
right  thereto — is  it  true  that  they  are  living  the  life 
of  the  highest  they  can  see  ?  Is  it  true  of  you  that 


A  FORFEITED  GIFT  81 

you  are  living  to  the  holiest  you  have  seen? 
When  you  exchanged  something  else  for  Christ 
did  you  choose  a  higher  or  did  you  choose  a  lower  ? 
If  you  chose  a  lower,  putting  from  you  the  higher, 
on  whatever  hypocritical  pretext  your  choice  was 
made,  you  did  it  knowingly,  and  you  forfeited  a 
great  opportunity,  and  you  thrust  from  you  the  divine 
gift.  You  were  nearer  God  as  a  child  than  you  are 
now,  and  therefore  nearer  truth  and  beauty  and 
light  and  love.  You  saw  further  into  the  meaning 
of  things  as  they  are  than  you  see  to-day  with  all 
your  worldly  wisdom.  It  is  so  easy  for  a  man  to  go 
wrong  while  naming  the  name  of  right,  and  talking 
as  though  life  were  still  conformed  to  an  ideal,  when 
the  back  is  turned  upon  the  light  all  the  same. 
"  He  wist  not  that  the  Lord  had  departed  from 
him." 

I  will  describe,  if  you  will  permit  me  for  two 
minutes,  the  life  of  some  of  the  men  in  this  place 
who  have  never  gone  flagrantly  wrong  in  all  their 
days,  who  have  been  perfectly  satisfied  with  them- 
selves up  to  this  moment.  Is  this  true?  Re- 
member, I  am  choosing  not  the  man  who  is 
deliberately  wicked,  I  am  speaking  to  a  weaker 
being  than  he,  for  most  of  you  are  not  particularly 
strong  even  in  the  world's  way.  Here  is  one  typical 
London  character,  a  man  who  is  living  for  himself. 
He  never  acknowledges  it  to  himself;  not  that  he 
is  absorbed  in  the  pursuit  of  gain,  because  he  is  not 
particularly  absorbed  in  the  pursuit  of  anything. 


82  A  FORFEITED  GIFT 

He  does  not  know  the  meaning  of  the  word 
"  sacrifice."  So  soon  as  a  thing  becomes  difficult 
it  is  not  for  him.  He  cares  nothing  for  that  which 
brings  to  him  no  immediate  and  material  return. 
He  has  no  outlook  beyond  the  immediate  present. 
His  aim  is  to  get  as  much  as  possible  out  of  life  at 
as  little  as  possible  personal  cost.  How  to  amuse 
himself  is  the  ideal  of  part  of  the  young  manhood 
of  to-day,  at  any  rate.  Such  a  character  pours 
ridicule  upon  the  people  who  are  in  earnest,  in 
earnest  about  anything.  It  seems  to  him  infinitely 
absurd  that  people  should  preach  or  pray  or  labour 
for  something  greater  than  their  own  self-interest. 
He  is  superior  to  these  things.  How  ridiculous 
looks  the  man  who  spends  his  time  in  advocating 
this  cause  or  that  cause.  You  are  apt  to  ask,  in 
your  disbelief  in  unselfish  motives,  what  is  really  at 
the  bottom  of  the  seemingly  heroic  acts  of  men  who 
have,  so  far  as  you  can  see,  nothing  to  gain  by  what 
they  do.  Poor  fool  that  you  are,  dreaming  that 
all  is  well  when  all  is  wrong,  you  are  a  meanly  tragic 
failure.  You  do  not  even  know  that  the  failure  is 
here  already,  sunning  yourself  in  your  own  self- 
satisfaction,  but  knowing  not  that  the  glory  of  a 
day  that  once  was  yours  has  left  you  long  ago. 
Some  of  you  are  sleeping  the  sleep  of  death  in  the 
lap  of  the  harlot,  but  there  will  be  a  dread  awaken- 
ing by-and-by.  It  may  be  upon  this  side  of  the 
grave,  it  may  be  upon  the  other,  but  "  God  is  not 
mocked;  whatsoever  a  man  soweth,  that  shall  he 


A  FORFEITED  GIFT  83 

also  reap."  It  is  perfectly  true  that  you  are  able  to 
silence  the  voice  of  conscience,  perfectly  true  that 
you  can  banish  your  scruples  one  by  one ;  perfectly 
true,  and  you  know  it,  that  manhood  can  deterio- 
rate and  a  man  respect  himself  less  and  less  as  the 
years  go  on.  And  yet  it  may  never  be  acknow- 
ledged even  to  one's  own  heart,  let  alone  to  the 
world  that  waits  and  watches  without.  "He  wist 
not  that  the  Lord  had  departed  from  him." 

Now,  brethren,  let  us  get  close  to  the  facts.  You 
and  I  must  do  it  some  day,  we  may  as  well  do  it 
now.  It  is  true  that  some  amongst  us  are  prostitut- 
ing God's  gifts  to  base  ends  ?  Who  has  ever  been 
any  better  because  you  live  ?  What  have  you  added 
to  the  world's  good  ?  What  do  you  purpose  to  do 
to-morrow  with  the  manhood  that  God  has  granted 
to  you?  Does  that  question  matter,  or  does  it 
matter  not  ?  Oh,  men  of  the  twentieth  century, 
and  of  England  and  of  London,  you  have  your  place 
to  fill  and  God  has  sent  you  to  fill  it.  You  have  your 
work  to  do  and  only  you  can  do  it,  and  your  oppor- 
tunity is  coming  and  you  have  known  it  and  you 
know  it  now.  God's  gift  rests  upon  you  and  you  may 
be  in  danger  of  being  false  to  it.  Shall  it  be  a  dirge 
that  is  chanted  over  your  life?  Quite  recently 
when  we  were  in  the  Eternal  City  I  paid  a  visit  to 
that  famous  picture  which  everybody  knows,  in  the 
Sistine  Chapel,  Michael  Angelo's  "  Last  Judgment." 
As  we  sat  before  the  masterpiece  in  silence,  as 
becomes  him  who  would  look  upon  such  a  work, 


84  A  FORFEITED  GIFT 

wrought  in  an  age  of  wonders  and  dreams,  I  thought 
to  myself  that  the  Christ  upon  the  throne  there,  the 
throne  of  judgment,  is  not  my  Christ — this  Christ 
with  a  clean-shaven  face,  with  an  expression  of  in- 
placability,  hurling  down  to  destruction  the  poor, 
wretched  beings  who  had  no  longer  opportunity 
for  protest.  That  is  not  my  Christ,  but  is  more 
like  the  conqueror  in  a  Roman  triumph,  more  like 
Achilles  in  his  chariot  dragging  Hector,  vanquished, 
round  the  walls  of  Troy.  But  behind  the  idea  of 
the  stern  painter  I  did  see  a  truth,  as  many  have 
seen  it  before  him,  and  that  you  and  I  must  face  too. 
There  is  a  Christ  who  will  judge.  Before  that 
Christ  we  must  all  appear.  If  you  could  see — but 
you  know  it  not — you  are  standing  before  Him  now, 
and  there  is  not  a  man  among  you,  strong  as  you 
are  and  worldly  -  wise,  who  could  face  without 
tremor,  agitation,  or  shame,  if  your  life  is  conformed 
to  the  baser  ideals,  that  Christ  of  glory  Who  once 
was  crucified  for  you.  And  the  reason  why  I  think 
you  would  dread  the  Christ  Who  is  Judge  is  just 
because  He  was  the  Christ  of  crucified  purity  and 
love. 

Shall  I  tell  you,  if  only  in  symbol,  what  I  mean  ? 
Once  a  lad  came  to  me,  a  young  fellow  just  as  some 
of  you  are,  and  asked  me  to  help  him  in  a  difficulty, 
the  very  circumstances  of  which  I  have  forgotten. 
I  knew  who  he  was,  so  I  said,  "  Why  did  you  not 
go  to  your  father?  He  is  a  good  man,  upright, 
loving,  true."  "  I  could  not  face  him,"  was  the 


A  FORFEITED  GIFT  85 

answer.  "  I  should  just  as  soon  expect  the  sun  to 
fall  from  heaven  as  my  father  to  compromise  with 
what  he  knew  to  be  right,  either  for  himself  or  for 
me.  I  should  have  to  pay  to  the  uttermost  farthing." 
And  yet  that  father  was  not  a  hard  man.  The  sinner 
feared  the  face  of  the  man,  a  good  man,  inflexibly 
righteous.  In  all  compassion  that  is  worthy  of  the 
name  there  is  a  mingling  of  austerity.  Who  would 
dream  of  compromising  with  the  ideal  when  we  stand 
in  the  very  presence  of  the  Christ  ?  Then  you 
should  not  compromise  with  it  now.  u  Awake, 
thou  that  sleepest,  and  arise  from  the  dead,  and 
Christ  shall  give  thee  light." 

There  is  no  good  in  preaching  except  that  there 
be  a  to-morrow.  No  preacher  has  the  function  of 
the  herald  of  death.  We  are  the  heralds  of  life. 
When  the  last  word  comes  to  be  spoken  it  will  not 
be  the  prophet  who  speaks,  it  will  be  the  Judge. 
It  is  the  prophet  who  speaks  now.  The  living 
Christ  is  calling  to  those  who  have  ears  to  hear. 
His  claim  men  can  well  admit,  because  He  is  the 
Highest.  When  I  can  find  anything  higher  than 
Christ,  then  that  becomes  my  creed  forthwith.  To 
Him  we  turn  our  eyes,  the  Giver  of  the  ideal,  and 
more  than  that,  of  the  power  to  conform  thereto. 

«'  Whoso  hath  felt  the  spirit  of  the  highest 

Cannot  confound  nor  doubt  Him,  nor  deny ; 
Yea,  with  one  voice,  O  World,  though  thou  deniest, 
Stand  thou  on  that  side,  for  on  this  am  I." 

Brother  men,  I  am  not  calling  you  to  anything  im- 


86  A  FORFEITED  GIFT 

reasonable  or  impossible.  Recognise  that  the  divine 
gift  rests  upon  you  for  just  what  you  are  and  where 
you  are,  and  that  it  can  be  withdrawn,  and  it  may 
be.  You  are  not  living  to  your  highest,  and  yet 
you  could  in  the  strength  of  the  Lord  God.  Have 
you  wandered  away  from  it,  turned  your  face  from 
the  light?  Come  back.  The  Master  of  us  all  is 
waiting  to  receive. 

"  Come,  lest  this  heart  should,  cold  and  cast  away, 

Die  ere  the  Guest  adored  she  entertain, 
Lest  eyes  which  never  saw  Thine  early  day 
Should  miss  Thy  heavenly  reign." 

May  the  great  God,  to  Whom  all  hearts  are 
open,  receive  and  reconsecrate  every  life  in  our 
midst  unto  His  great  service  and  to  the  glory  of 
His  great  name. 


THE  WAY  THROUGH  THE  FLOOD 


THE  central  experience  of  the  sermon  which  bears  this  title  is 
a  piece  of  real  life  given  in  the  illustration  of  the  elderly  man 
whose  greatest  trouble  came  in  the  evening  of  his  life.  He  was 
a  brave  man,  unselfish  and  good,  so  I  spoke  to  him  from  the 
pulpit,  and  finished  the  sermon,  so  far  as  he  was  concerned,  in 
the  Yestry. 


VI 

"  As  .  .  .  the  feet  of  the  priests  that  bare  the  ark  were  dipped  in  the 
brim  of  the  water  .  .  .  the  priests  that  bare  the  ark  of  the  covenant  of 
the  Lord  stood  firm  on  dry  ground  in  the  midst  .  .  .  until  all  the  people 
were  passed  clean  over  Jordan." — JOSHUA  iii.  15,  17. 

WE  have  a  very  striking  historical  incident  herein 
referred  to.  I  do  not  pretend  to  explain  it  as  it 
stands  in  terms  that  would  satisfy  every  critical 
mind ;  but,  whatever  the  literal  facts  may  have 
been,  our  text  enshrines  a  spiritual  truth  to  which 
the  story  here  narrated  lends  vividness  and  power. 
I  am  not  at  all  disposed  to  believe  that  this  story 
is  incredible  ;  but  it  may  well  have  been  that,  as 
handed  down  in  the  history  of  Israel,  the  facts 
recounted  may  not  have  been  precisely  as  they  took 
place.  We  have  to  read,  as  we  would  the  narrative 
of  a  poet,  a  little  between  the  lines,  and  fill  in  the 
details  for  ourselves.  It  must  have  been  an  incident 
that  took  very  firm  hold  of  the  imagination  of  Israel, 
for  it  is  told  here  with  such  vividness  and  power 
that  apparently  it  had  become  a  part  of  their  folk- 
lore. It  was  told  by  the  parents  to  the  children, 
and  monuments  were  erected  to  commemorate  the 
passing  of  Israel  over  Jordan.  What  do  you  think 
actually  took  place  ?  I  have  supposed  it  to  be 
something  like  this : — Joshua,  the  great  captain,  a 


9o     THE  WAY  THROUGH  THE  FLOOD 

man  of  unusual  force  and  genius,  led  this  wandering 
people,  who,  after  forty  years'  hardening  in  the 
wilderness,  were  now  become  a  formidable  host, 
to  the  very  borders  of  the  promised  land.  Then 
they  find  that  the  way  is  barred,  not  only  by  the 
enemy,  but  by  the  river,  which  had  overflowed  its 
banks.  Jordan,  famous  in  history  and  song,  they 
now  behold  for  the  first  time.  It  is  like  a  lake  with 
a  torrent  tearing  through  the  midst  of  it.  It  is  no 
wonder  that  Israel  called  a  halt  upon  the  borders 
of  this,  as  it  were,  unknown  sea.  But  the  great 
captain  finds  a  way  through.  The  very  fact  that 
Jordan  has  overflowed  its  banks  means  to  him  that 
it  is  fordable  somewhere.  He  finds  the  place ;  the 
enthusiasm,  courage,  and  devotion  of  the  people 
would  supply  the  rest.  The  great  captain  waits 
upon  his  God,  and  then  turns  to  his  people :  "  Here 
is  the  way  through  the  flood;  march  on;  let  the 
priests  that  bear  the  ark  of  the  Lord  go  through 
the  waters  and  stand  still  on  any  rock  that  will 
supply  them  with  a  footing ;  and  where  they  stand 
do  you  pass."  And  it  was  even  as  he  said.  As 
the  priests  that  bare  the  ark  came  to  the  brim  of 
the  waters  the  host  rose  and  followed,  nothing 
daunted  by  the  seeming  obstacle,  or  by  the  turbid 
billows,  or  the  apparent  blackness  and  depth  of 
Jordan.  And  when  they  that  bare  the  ark  stood 
in  the  midst,  their  feet  upon  any  rock  that  would 
afford  them  footing,  some  swimming,  some  walking, 
some  carrying  burdens,  some  with  little  children 


THE  WAY  THROUGH  THE  FLOOD      91 

upon  their  shoulders,  some  leading  others  with  their 
hands,  the  great  host  poured  through — there  was 
a  way  over  Jordan. 

Here  is  a  figure  of  at  least  one  experience  of  the 
man  of  faith — the  experience  that  the  simple  trust 
which  refuses  to  call  halt  when  the  Divine  com- 
mand is  to  go  forward  is  never  put  to  shame.  God 
was  the  real  Leader  of  Israel;  the  enthusiasm  and 
self-devotion  of  the  great  captain,  who  laid  his  spell 
upon  the  mighty  host,  were  derived  from  heaven. 
This  was  the  way  that  God  had  marked  out  for 
Israel.  The  way  lay  through  the  flood,  and  that 
way  Israel  took  at  the  bidding  of  its  Leader. 

There  may  be  one  point  of  view  from  which  this 
interpretation  of  the  text  may  appear  to  be  false — 
namely,  the  point  of  view  which  regards  it  as  having 
reference  to  the  circumstances  rather  than  to  the 
growth  of  the  soul.  I  am  taking  a  spiritual  view  of 
my  text,  keeping  in  mind  the  vividness  of  the  his- 
torical incident.  But  now  I  would  wish  you  to  strip 
off  everything  that  is  merely  external  and  adven- 
titious, local  and  temporary,  and  regard  it  as  for  all 
time,  and  as  having  an  individual  application.  Fix 
your  mind  upon  the  principle  rather  than  upon  the 
particular  scene.  Oftentimes  in  history  a  similar 
feat  has  been  attempted,  with  the  same  high  en- 
thusiasm, and  has  utterly  failed.  I  think,  for  in- 
stance, of  the  Crusades,  when  all  Europe  gathered 
under  the  banner  of  the  Cross,  marched  upon  Jordan, 
essayed  to  cross  this  very  river,  and  to  attack  this  very 


92     THE  WAY  THROUGH  THE  FLOOD 

capital  of  Jerusalem.  Europe  failed  where  Israel  suc- 
ceeded. Europe  set  out  to  obtain  possession  of  the 
tomb  of  the  Saviour;  popes  blessed  the  banners;  kings 
and  princes  enlisted  under  them ;  millions  of  lives 
were  sacrificed,  and  rivers  of  blood  were  set  flowing. 
But  the  tomb  remains  to-day,  as  it  was  then,  in  the 
possession  of  the  Mohammedans.  What  Israel  did 
on  this  historic  day  Europe  at  a  later  day  failed  to 
do.  Why?  Because  the  body  of  Christ  was  not 
there  ;  it  was  an  empty  tomb  they  were  looking  for, 
and  for  the  moment  found,  and  from  an  empty  tomb 
they  were  hurled  back.  God  had  not  bidden  them 
set  out  upon  that  quest.  The  difference  between 
Israel's  conquest  and  the  defeat  of  the  Crusaders  lies 
in  this :  that,  though  in  both  cases  the  enthusiasm 
was  equal,  though  the  Cross  was  blessed  as  much  as 
the  ark  of  God  had  ever  been,  the  Crusaders  called 
upon  God  to  bless  what  they  set  out  to  do,  whereas 
God  called  upon  Israel  to  go  forward,  and  Israel 
obeyed. 

Take  another  instance  in  history  that  comes 
nearer  to  our  own  time.  It  has  been  said  that  more 
mischief  has  been  caused  in  the  world  by  men  who 
have  conscientiously  believed  themselves  to  be  led  by 
God  than  by  all  other  causes  put  together.  This 
may  or  may  not  be  true,  but  it  has  something  on  the 
face  of  it  to  justify  the  assertion  being  made.  Take 
for  instance  the  seventeenth  century  in  this  beloved 
land  of  ours,  just  before  the  outbreak  of  the  great 
civil  war.  There  had  been  eleven  years  of  personal 


THE  WAY  THROUGH  THE  FLOOD      93 

government  when  the  Stuart  King  asserted  his  right 
divine  to  govern  without  help  from  constitutional 
authority.  I  believe  Charles  I.  was  firmly  con- 
vinced that  he  derived  his  commission  and  authority 
from  on  high — but  at  the  cost  of  his  life.  That  was 
a  small  thing :  he  might  have  been  a  martyr  to  a 
great  idea,  but  that  for  which  he  stood  died  with 
him  and  never  rose  again.  Still  more  tragic,  perhaps, 
is  the  fate  of  one  of  his  ministers.  I  never  can  read 
the  life  and  words  of  Archbishop  Laud  without  feel- 
ing for  him  a  certain  sympathy  and  even  admiration. 
He  was  a  good  man,  according  to  his  light.  He  set 
out,  however,  to  do  that  which  Englishmen  and 
Scotsmen  will  never  endure — to  enforce  an  external 
uniformity  of  religious  observance.  He  set  out  to 
coerce  the  conscience,  and  he  failed.  He  tried  with 
pains  and  penalties,  with  cruelty  and  injustice,  to 
enforce  what  he  conscientiously  believed  to  be  the 
best  thing  for  the  Church  of  God  in  his  country. 
"  Unity,"  said  he,  "  cannot  much  longer  subsist  in  a 
church  when  uniformity  is  thrust  out  of  the  door." 
Most  pathetic  are  the  entries  in  his  diary  as  he  lies 
in  prison  awaiting  the  end.  He  had  set  an  ideal 
before  him,  and  called  upon  God  for  its  accomplish- 
ment, and  was  surprised  when  it  was  shattered  into 
ruin,  wondered  in  bewilderment  that  he  had  been 
abandoned  at  the  crossing  of  Jordan.  It  was  because 
he  had  never  been  set  to  go  that  way.  He  tried  the 
flood  at  its  deep  :  the  great  captain  of  Israel  tried  it, 
indeed,  where  it  had  overflowed  its  banks,  but  he 


94     THE  WAY  THROUGH  THE  FLOOD 

knew  that  God  had  made  a  ford  there.  Where 
Laud  failed  many  another  has  failed,  not  only  in  the 
Established  Church,  but  in  that  for  which  you  and  I 
stand.  There  was  a  day  in  that  very  century  when 
Puritan  and  Covenanter  strove  against  one  another ; 
Greek  met  Greek  that  day  at  D  unbar.  For  once  in 
his  life  Cromwell  met  his  match  in  David  Leslie,  and 
if  they  two  had  been  left  alone  to  fight  it  out  it  is  a 
grave  question  whether  the  Lord  Protector  would 
have  returned  victor  to  England.  But  the  Presby- 
terian ministers  interfered,  quoting  this  very  chapter, 
and  perhaps  my  text  itself.  They,  in  counsel 
assembled,  compelled  their  general  to  move  his  hosts 
down  the  hill.  They  said,  "  It  is  the  sword  of  the 
Lord  you  hold  in  your  hands ;  fall  on  and  destroy 
the  Puritan  army."  So  Leslie,  sorely  against  his 
will,  moved  to  the  attack.  As  Cromwell  saw  him 
coming,  he  shut  his  Bible,  mounted  his  horse,  and, 
rallying  his  army,  said,  "Let  God  arise,  and  let  His 
enemies  be  scattered  !  "  God  could  not  be  on  both 
sides ;  so  the  Presbyterian  ministers  who  were  so 
sure  of  their  cause  were  scattered  in  flight  ere  many 
hours  were  gone.  We  love  and  respect  them  to-day 
for  all  they  did  and  suffered  in  that  strenuous  time, 
but  we  may  learn  the  lesson  their  history  teaches — 
that  it  is  not  always  the  side  that  calls  upon  God 
that  is  sure  of  being  able  to  pass  the  flood  and  stand 
victor  on  the  other  side. 

Now  let  us  come  home  a  little  more  closely  with 
our  illustrations.     It  has  been  said  that  one  of  our 


THE  WAY  THROUGH  THE  FLOOD      95 

national  vices,  and  the  one  about  which  we  are  most 
sensitive,  is  self-righteousness.  If  self-righteousness 
is  conspicuous  in  one  person  more  than  another,  it 
is  in  the  middle-class  Briton,  church-goer  and  non- 
church-goer.  We  are  familiar  with  the  type — the 
man  who  is  perfectly  certain  that  he  is  right,  though 
all  the  world  be  wrong ;  but  he  has  not  been 
so  perfectly  sure  as  the  saint  and  martyr  who  in 
dying  has  conquered.  A  man  may  be  cross-grained, 
selfish,  domineering,  ambitious,  covetous,  and  cruel ; 
and  yet  he  may  whitewash  all  this  with  religion, 
and,  using  the  name  of  God,  think  that  obstacles 
will  melt  before  him,  that  he  will  march  through 
the  flood.  When  we  have  to  do  with  these  people 
at  close  quarters — in  fact,  when  we  have  been 
included  in  their  ranks  ourselves — how  surprised 
we  have  been  when  the  flood,  instead  of  going  away, 
has  overwhelmed  them  and  us !  As  a  minister  of 
religion,  it  has  fallen  to  my  lot  sometimes  to  try 
to  compose  differences  in  other  churches  than  my 
own.  More  than  once,  in  undertaking  such  a 
difficult  task,  I  have  ere  long  found  it  impossible 
to  succeed — not  because  one  could  not  see  what 
the  matter  was,  but  because  one  could  not  make 
the  parties  who  were  causing  the  trouble  see  just 
what  it  was.  I  have  seen  a  man  stand  and  sing 
with  the  air  of  a  martyr  at  the  stake,  with  almost 
the  look  of  one,  and  yet  he  was  the  seed  and  the 
root  of  all  the  mischief — his  spirit  completely  wrong. 
Standing  for  God,  he  said,  and  on  principle — which 


96     THE  WAY  THROUGH  THE  FLOOD 

meant,  as  a  rule,  his  own  cross-grained  will — and 
he  meant  to  have  it,  and  to  have  it  all.  He  had 
come  to  his  Jordan ;  Jordan  would  not  give  way. 
He  called  upon  the  Lord,  and  he  raised  the  ark, 
as  he  thought ;  but  he  was  the  god  enshrined  in 
that  ark,  in  spite  of  the  name  inscribed  on  his 
banners.  To  add  that  of  Jehovah  made  no  differ- 
ence :  Jordan  was  there,  there  Jordan  remained ; 
there  was  no  passage  for  him. 

Some  of  us  know  the  man  of  business  who 
justifies  some  exceedingly  shady  doing  by  the 
utterance  of  some  such  pious  expression  as  this : 
"In  all  thy  ways  acknowledge  Him,  and  He  shall 
direct  thy  paths."  He  has  a  keen  sense  of  justice, 
perhaps,  but  he  has  very  little  sense  of  mercy.  The 
man  may  be  hard,  covetous,  grasping ;  he  can  shut 
his  ears  and  eyes  to  a  thousand  things,  so  clear 
in  his  vision  of  the  way  of  true  business  dealing. 
He  will  tell  you,  "  No  man  ever  heard  me  break 
my  word ;  no  man  ever  heard  me  make  a  promise 
that  I  did  not  keep.  That  which  has  given  me  my 
success  is  what  I  require  from  others;  I  stand 
upon  simple  justice  and  righteousness,"  and  so  on. 
He  is  not  always  quite  sure  of  the  foundation  of 
the  righteousness  upon  which  he  says  he  takes 
his  stand.  Righteousness  is  incomplete  except  its 
highest  and  final  expression  be  love.  "If  any 
man  have  not  the  spirit  of  Christ,  he  is  none  of 
His."  Not  every  one  that  saith  unto  me,  Lord, 
Lord,  shall  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven ;  but 


THE  WAY  THROUGH  THE  FLOOD  97 

he  that  doeth   the  will  of  my  Father  which  is  in 
heaven." 

I  speak  in  pity  and  in  sympathy  to  any  such  man 
as  I  have  described.  Do  you  know  why  the 
Crusaders  failed,  failed  at  Jordan?  Do  you  know 
why  Charles  and  Laud  failed,  failed  when  they 
crossed  the  Tweed?  Do  you  know  why  you  are 
failing?  It  is  because  you  have  called  your  own 
way  God's  way ;  because,  deep  down  at  the  bottom 
of  all  your  motives,  is  worship  of  self;  because  you 
have  not  seen  with  the  larger  vision  what  it  is 
that  lies  at  the  end  of  your  march.  Otherwise 
you  would  not  be  so  keen  upon  the  things  that  now 
are,  for  the  fashion  of  this  world  passeth  away. 
It  is  not  sufficient  to  go  through  life  calling  upon 
the  name  of  the  Lord ;  we  have  to  be  sure  that  we 
have  heard  the  voice  of  the  Highest  saying,  This  is 
the  way.  The  reason  why  men  of  great  talent  who 
have  stood  for  God,  as  they  thought,  have  failed  is 
this :  They  have  confounded  God  with  the  second 
best,  not  the  best.  You  only  find  God  upon  the 
highest.  If  we  have  heard  that  voice  Divine,  it 
matters  not  that  the  way  lies  through  the  desert 
and  the  flood  ;  that  is  the  way  of  victory  and  peace. 
We  have  to  define  and  make  clear  both  our  motives 
and  our  aims.  The  highest  and  noblest  we  can 
ever  hear  is  the  voice  of  God.  We  cannot  take  the 
right  way  if  we  have  chosen  it  in  a  wrong  spirit. 
Popes  may  bless  banners,  kings  may  claim  Divine 
right,  business  men  and  church  members  may  utter 

G 


98      THE  WAY  THROUGH  THE  FLOOD 

the  name  of  God  as  the  justification  of  their  own 
way,  but  Jordan  cannot  be  passed  until  self  has  been 
surrendered.  Any  man  can  know  when  he  has  the 
mind  of  Christ.  Such  a  man  is  led  by  the  Spirit  of 
God.  He  bears  the  ark  of  God  upon  his  shoulders, 
and  the  waters  give  way  before  him;  and  not  only 
for  himself:  others  pass  by,  as  it  were  under  his 
shadow.  We  may  be  like  the  priests  in  the  middle 
of  the  stream,  standing  on  the  rock  and  holding  the 
ark  high  up.  To  see  us  so  standing  is  a  help  to 
many  a  man  to  plunge  into  the  stream  and  cross  by 
himself. 

"  On  Jordan's  stormy  banks  I  stand, 

And  cast  a  wistful  eye 
To  Canaan's  fair  and  happy  land, 
Where  my  possessions  lie." 

"  On  Jordan's  stormy  banks "  the  waters  will  give 
way  for  you :  you  can  march  to  the  other  side  in 
perfect  safety.  So  that  you  have  given  yourself  to 
your  Captain  and  the  great  High  Priest  it  is  easy 
for  you  to  take  the  way  that  God  has  marked ; 
things  are  bound  to  go  wrong  if  you  take  the  way 
upon  which  God  is  not. 

Suppose  we  try  to  put  all  this  to  ourselves,  right 
now,  as  the  Americans  say.  What  are  you  and  I 
living  for  ?  Are  we  fitted  to  carry  the  ark  of  God 
upon  our  shoulders?  These  old  Covenanters  that 
were  defeated  at  Dunbar  drew  up  a  Catechism, 
which  I  used  to  learn  in  my  early  days.  Perhaps 
it  would  have  been  well  if  David  Leslie  had  held 


THE  WAY  THROUGH  THE  FLOOD      99 

it  in  his  hand  that  historic  morning  and  catechised 
the  Presbyterian  ministers  with  it.  One  question 
in  that  Catechism  runs  thus :  "  What  is  the  chief 
end  of  man?" — and  its  answer:  "Man's  chief  end 
is  to  glorify  God,  and  to  enjoy  Him  for  ever." 
Thomas  Carlyle  says  you  cannot  make  a  grander 
affirmation  than  that  as  the  meaning  and  the  end 
of  your  life.  Let  us  test  ourselves  with  it.  You  all 
have  your  faces  turned  somewhere ;  you  are  marching 
upon  some  road.  Are  you  quite  sure  that  the  end 
of  it  is  to  glorify  God  and  to  enjoy  Him  ?  The  will 
of  God  is  ever  goodwill  to  men.  Like  the  great 
captain  of  Israel,  we  can  swing  our  blade  with  con- 
fidence when  it  is  against  enemies  of  God ;  we  can 
give  the  order,  too,  to  march  on,  if  we  have 
previously  heard  it  in  the  secret  place  from  the  lips 
of  God. 

I  remember  many  years  ago,  in  early  Oxford 
days,  going  for  a  walk  with  a  friend,  some  con- 
siderable distance  from  the  university  city.  In  a 
little  hamlet  we  came  across  a  small  chapel — 
Wesleyan  we  took  it  to  be.  Entering  through 
the  open  door,  we  found  a  poor  old  woman  sweeping 
the  floor  and  dusting  the  pews.  We  began  to  talk 
to  her;  we  saw  that  the  little  chapel  was  part  of 
her  life ;  she  had  been  in  at  the  building  of  it,  and 
she  and  her  husband  were  at  first  paid  to  take  care 
of  it.  But  the  population  drifted  away,  the  members 
became  very  few,  she  said.  Their  spirit  was  very 
beautiful ;  they  could  not  afford  to  pay  her  and  hei 


ioo   THE  WAY  THROUGH  THE  FLOOD 

husband  any  longer,  so  she  and  he  did  the  work  for 
nothing — that  is,  they  did  it  for  God.  The  husband 
was  called  home  :  she  was  left  alone.  She  went 
on  with  the  work.  "When  it  is  too  much,"  she 
said,  "  a  neighbour  gives  me  a  helping  hand.  I  am 
glad  to  do  the  work ;  goodness  and  mercy  have 
followed  me  all  the  days  of  my  life.  I  shall  soon 
be  over  the  dark  river  and  at  home ;  until  then  I 
serve  God  this  way."  That  simple  old  woman  was 
living  no  narrower  life  because  she  had  grown 
poorer  and  poorer.  There  was  nothing  mean  about 
her  obscurity ;  there  was  something  grand  in  its 
very  simplicity;  she  had  learned  the  deep  secret, 
the  way  to  master  sorrow,  the  way  to  make  life 
full  and  rich  and  glad.  She  was  actually  standing 
in  the  middle  of  Jordan's  stream  bearing  the  ark 
of  God  upon  her  shoulder,  and  probably  it  was  true 
that  many  a  life  was  the  better  and  many  a  crossing 
the  happier  because  she  stood  there. 

Contrast  with  this  another  case.  One  Thursday 
there  came  to  me  in  the  vestry  a  man  who  had  spent 
the  greater  part  of  his  life  in  a  district  not  very  far 
from  this  spot.  He  said  he  had  lived  through  a 
clean,  straight,  honourable  career;  he  had  done  his 
best  for  God  in  his  little  way.  But  trouble  came 
to  him  just  at  that  time  of  life  when  he  thought 
he  had  passed  all  shoals  and  shallows,  steered  safely 
past  all  rocks,  and  entered  the  harbour  of  old  age. 
He  was  stricken  in  the  tenderesi  part  of  his  nature ; 
the  partner  of  his  life,  the  one  he  had  sworn  to  love 


THE  WAY  THROUGH  THE  FLOOD    101 

and  cherish,  had  gone  wrong — I  need  not  state  the 
vice.  His  children  stood  by  him,  but  the  thing  he 
valued  most  was  wrested  from  him.  Home  was 
wrong  when  peace  was  gone.  He  said  to  me,  with 
tears  in  his  eyes :  "  All  Thy  billows  have  gone  over 
me."  Had  I  only  thought  of  it  then,  as  I  think  of 
it  now,  I  would  have  said :  "  Not  unless  you  lie 
down  in  them  ;  they  have  only  gone  over  your  feet ; 
you  are  standing  right  in  the  midst  of  the  torrent 
of  Jordan,  and  you  have  to  stand  there  while  the 
waves  sweep  round  your  feet,  but  your  children 
will  pass  over  with  the  mighty  host  more  easily  if 
you  will  be  a  true,  strong,  and  brave  man.  Keep 
true,  keep  your  head  up,  and  your  face  towards 
the  other  shore."  God  is  not  done  with  such  a 
man  as  that :  his  life  was  not  wasted,  and  he  needed 
not  to  give  way  when  the  moment  of  testing  came. 
You  are  the  priest  called  to  pass  before  the  host ; 
to  you  is  given  a  position  of  vantage  and  honour. 
Stand  in  the  torrent  till  the  Captain  says :  "  Cross," 
and  then  no  man  can  hinder  your  way.  I  am  not 
preaching  any  fair-weather  Gospel;  I  know  that 
good  men  go  under,  as  the  world  counts  it,  but  all 
I  am  desirous  of  making  you  understand  is  that  when 
they  go  under  they  go  up.  No  man  who  has  ever 
suffered  for  right  needs  your  pity,  and  he  knows 
he  does  not ;  he  would  not  take  any  other  way,  and 
is  perfectly  conscious  of  the  recompense.  Pass  he 
will,  and  the  righteous  God  brings  him  through. 
Just  as,  one  by  one,  we  leave  our  possessions  on 


io2   THE  WAY  THROUGH  THE  FLOOD 

this  side  Jordan,  as  they  drop  from  us  in  mid- 
stream, one  by  one  they  are  gathering  on  the  other 
side.  "  Part  of  the  host  has  crossed  the  flood,  and 
part  is  crossing  now." 

I  would  speak  a  word  of  personal  appeal. 

It  may  be  that  I  address  some  man  or  woman 
who  is  facing  a  hard  thing  this  week,  and  you 
are  tempted  to  compromise  with  evil,  to  bring  down 
the  banner  of  the  Lord,  ever  so  little  it  may  be, 
to  forsake  that  which  in  your  heart  you  know  to 
be  the  indubitable  right.  Never  allow  yourself  to 
dally  with  the  temptation  even  for  an  instant. 
Look  to  the  other  side ;  on  the  other  side  of  every 
hard  experience  is  a  greater  blessing,  so  you  be 
found  faithful.  God  is  ready  with  His  recompense ; 
no  flood  will  ever  sweep  you  away.  You  are  afraid 
of  what  has  not  come  and  never  can  come.  On 
the  way  to  what  you  know  to  be  the  ideal,  on  the 
way  which  you  are  certain  is  the  way  of  duty,  there 
may  be  a  Jordan.  March  on ;  you  are  not  the  first 
who  has  crossed  that  flood;  the  great  Captain  and 
the  great  High  Priest  have  gone  before  you.  May 
I  change  the  verb  ?  It  is  a  singular  one :  Our 
Captain  and  our  High  Priest  are  one  and  the  same. 
Jesus  went  through,  yet  Jesus  stands  in  our  midst, 
and  holds  up  the  ark  of  the  Lord.  Do  you  re- 
member the  way  that  Jesus  took  when  Jordan 
fronted  Him?  Setting  His  face  steadfastly  to  go 
to  Jerusalem,  He  saw  there  only  a  Cross,  an  agony, 
a  shame  ;  and  when  loving  hearts  would  have  turned 


THE  WAY  THROUGH  THE  FLOOD  103 

Him  aside,  He  repelled  the  temptation,  for  He  knew 
whence  it  sprang.  "  Get  thee  behind  Me ! " 
Calvary  was  the  Jordan  of  Jesus ;  He  went  bravely 
forward,  crossed  the  river,  and  then  came  back  and 
stood  in  the  midst  that  we  might  cross  under  the 
shadow  of  the  Cross  of  Calvary. 

"  There  is  a  land  of  pure  delight, 
Where  saints  immortal  reign, 
Infinite  day  excludes  the  night, 
And  pleasures  banish  pain. 

*«  Sweet  fields  beyond  the  swelling  flood 

Stand  dressed  in  living  green  ; 

So  to  the  Jews  old  Canaan  stood, 

While  Jordan  rolled  between. 

"  Could  we  but  climb  where  Moses  stood, 

And  view  the  landscape  o'er, 
Not  Jordan's  stream,  nor  death's  cold  floods 
Should  fright  us  from  the  shore." 


SOME  GREAT  THING 


"  I  HAD  some  young  men  in  mind  in  preaching  the  sermon  entitled, 
*  Some  Great  Thing.'  It  is  an  attempt  to  portray  to  themselves 
some  characters  which  have  in  them  a  touch  of  Stoic  pride. 
The  preacher's  object  was  to  commend  the  worth  of  a  humble 
confession  of  Christ — the  Christ  who  is  beyond  criticism.  There 
are  some  men  who  resent  being  placed  under  obligation  even  to  a 
Redeemer.  Pride  is  a  very  subtle  thing,  and  not  seldom  dubs 
itself  manliness." 


VII 

"And  his  servants  came  near,  and  spake  unto  him,  and  said,  My 
father,  if  the  prophet  had  bid  thee  do  some  great  thing,  wouldest  thou 
not  have  done  it?  how  much  rather,  then,  when  he  saith  unto  thee, 
Wash,  and  be  clean?" — z  KINGS  v.  13. 

HERE  is  another  of  these  Old  Testament  miracles 
which  are  so  puzzling  to  the  modern,  and  especially 
to  the  Western,  mind.  I  have  no  explanation  to 
offer.  We  can  but  form  our  own  judgment  on  the 
facts,  and  the  tale  is  plainly  told.  I  read  it  to  you 
just  now  for  our  lesson.  But  there  are  several 
things  to  be  observed  concerning  this  class  of 
phenomena  before  we  make  the  mistake  of  dis- 
missing this  story  as  a  fable. 

First,  the  modern  mind,  by  which  I  mean  yours 
and  mine,  trained  to  believe  in  the  uniformity  of 
nature  and  the  universality  of  law,  is  naturally 
incredulous  concerning  what  is  usually  termed 
miracle.  The  ancient,  and  especially  the  Oriental, 
mind,  was  just  the  opposite.  With  us  the  miracle 
would  require  more  justification  than  the  prophet's 
message.  With  them,  the  prophet's  message 
received  its  justification  in  the  miracle.  Well, 
now,  allowing  a  great  deal  for  the  difference  in 
mental  attitude  between  the  old  and  the  new, 
between  the  East  and  the  West,  you  will  have  to 

107 


io8  SOME  GREAT  THING 

concede  that  the  man  who  wrote  down  this  story 
must  have  believed  it  word  for  word. 

Secondly,  this  miracle  is  one  of  an  enormous 
class  of  similar  phenomena  which  occupy  the  field 
of  history  and  have  a  tendency  to  recur.  The 
history  of  mediaeval  Christendom  is  just  crammed 
with  miracles  of  the  same  kind,  and,  what  is  more, 
it  is  exceedingly  difficult — nay,  it  is  almost  im- 
possible— to  rule  them  out  of  the  field  of  vision, 
and  say  that  the  men  who  related  them,  and 
believed  that  they  saw  them,  never  saw  them.  In 
modern  times,  take,  for  example,  the  Miracles  at 
Lourdes  or  at  Holywell,  or,  to  come  nearer  home 
still,  the  various  faith-healing  cults  which  exist  in 
our  own  land  and  within  a  few  yards  of  this  very 
Church.  I  have  no  wish  contemptuously  to  rule 
them  out  of  the  discussion,  nor  have  we  any 
business  to  do  anything  of  the  kind.  It  is  my 
belief  that  expectation  does  a  great  deal.  Though 
I  consider  that  for  a  time  like  ours,  for  such  a  life 
as  you  and  I  live,  it  may  indicate  childishness  and 
even  weakness  of  character  to  be  always  looking 
for  the  phenomenal  and  the  thaumaturgical,  yet 
we  have  no  business  to  pour  contempt  upon  the 
records  of  such  when  they  come  across  our 
mental  vision.  As  I  have  just  said,  expectation 
does  a  good  deal.  What  we  expect  has  a  chance 
of  coming  to  pass.  What  a  good  many  people 
expect,  more  or  less  justifies  the  expectation.  We 
may  take  it  for  granted  that  Naaman  was 


SOME  GREAT  THING  109 

healed  because  everybody  around  him  expected 
he  would  be,  and  observe,  he  himself  was 
not  incredulous  when  he  declined  to  obey  the 
prophet's  commands.  It  was  simply  that  his  pride 
was  hurt.  "  Dip  in  Jordan  !  "  he  would  have  said. 
"  Abana  and  Pharpar  are  a  great  deal  better.  They 
are  bigger  rivers.  If  I  have  to  wash  and  be  clean  I 
would  rather  wash  at  home.  Besides,  why  could 
not  the  prophet  come  out  ?  I  am  a  very  great  man, 
yet  he  sends  a  messenger,  and  I  thought,  as  I  sat 
in  my  carriage,  he  would  be  sure  to  come  out,  and 
with  a  good  deal  of  obsequiousness  and  deference 
would  do  some  exceptional  palmistry,  and  I  should 
go  away  cured."  "I  thought."  He  had  prepared 
himself  in  his  mental  pose  for  what  did  not  take 
place.  "  Wash  and  be  clean  "  was  the  curt  message. 
"  Go  to  Jordan,"  and  Naaman  did  not  like  it. 

Thirdly,  after  the  considerations  just  advanced,  I 
think  you  and  I  will  be  prepared  to  readjust  our 
mental  attitude  to  the  problem  of  the  relation  of 
mind  to  matter,  and  the  subjection  of  the  latter  to 
the  former.  I  will  ask  you,  therefore,  to-night,  to 
pass  this  miracle  without  further  discussion.  You 
may  take  it  just  as  it  stands.  "  There  are  more 
things  in  heaven  and  earth  than  are  dreanied  of  in 
our  philosophy." 

But  it  is  the  psychology  of  the  series  of  incidents 
here  recorded  with  which  we  are  most  concerned. 
How  true  they  are  to  human  nature,  and  how  close 
the  parallel  between  Naaman  and  ourselves.  Here 


no  SOME  GREAT  THING 

is  a  man  stricken  with  leprosy,  and  at  the  same  time 
eaten  up  with  pride.  If  he  had  been  asked  to  do 
some  great  thing,  he,  soldier  that  he  was  and  master 
of  legions,  would  instantly  have  done  it.  A  mighty 
man,  he  expected  to  be  asked  to  perform  a  mighty 
feat.  When  the  prophet  said,  "Go  to  this  Judean 
stream,  get  out  of  your  carriage,  stoop  down  and 
wash  and  be  clean,"  he  went  away  in  a  rage. 

Human  nature,  which  is  capable  of  much  grandeur 
of  achievement  in  great  things,  in  special  things, 
often  breaks  down  in  the  presence  of  small  things. 
So  it  was  with  Naaman.  So,  too  often,  it  is  with 
us.  There  are  men  here  to-night,  I  am  perfectly 
sure,  who  are  cavilling  in  the  presence  of  the 
claims  of  Christ,  and  they  think  it  is  because  they 
themselves  are  superior  to  the  claim.  They  suppose 
it  is  because  they  have  a  greater,  a  more  austere, 
ideal  than  the  preacher  has  to  set  before  them, 
whereas  all  the  time  they  are  simply  acting  in 
the  spirit  of  Naaman,  and  do  not  know  that  what 
they  count  a  great  thing  is  not  the  thing  that  is 
asked  of  them  at  all,  but  some  harder  thing  which 
is  not  usually  called  great.  God  does  the  great 
things,  and  does  not  need  humanity  to  help  Him.  I 
have  in  the  pulpit  with  me  a  letter  from  a  young 
man  who  read  somewhere  a  sermon  that  was 
preached  here,  presumably  to  young  men,  on  a 
Sunday  evening  a  few  weeks  ago.  Writing  in  the 
name  of  three  or  four  others,  he  says :  I  think  I  will 
not  read  the  letter,  but  sum  it  up  in  a  few  words : — 


SOME  GREAT  THING  1 1 1 

"  We  have  been  reading  together  the  life  of  the  great  Stoic 
Emperor  Marcus  Aurelius,  and  to  tell  you  the  truth  we  feel  that 
this  man's  life  was  a  higher  and  a  nobler  one  than  that  of  most 
Christians,  certainly  a  better  life  than  ours.  We  wish  we  could 
attain  to  his  ideal,  and  it  is  in  no  carping  spirit  that  I  ask  you,  Would 
it  not  be  better  for  some  of  us  to  live  as  well  as  Marcus  Aurelius 
and  make  less  profession  of  Christianity  ?  and  could  not  we  do  as 
well  if  we  were  as  true  as  he  to  the  ideal  set  before  us,  without 
professing  Christianity  at  all  ?  " 

I  have  not  sent  any  reply.  I  am  going  to  speak  it 
now,  because  I  think  there  is  probably  more  than 
one  young  man  present  who  could  have  written  that 
letter,  and  who  certainly  has  that  problem.  Marcus 
Aurelius  represented  the  later  Stoicism  of  the 
Roman  Empire,  and  I  grant  you  that  he  was  about 
the  finest  example  of  it  that  was  ever  produced,  at 
any  rate  so  far  as  is  known.  I  will  grant  further  that 
Marcus  Aurelius,  and  all  that  he  stood  for,  is  more 
admirable  than  a  good  deal  of  Christianity  in  some 
of  its  modern  developments  as  we  see  it  around  us 
to-day.  The  late  Mr  Lecky  compared  it  favourably 
with  some  of  the  third  century  developments  of 
Christianity  —  with  their  asceticism,  intolerance, 
fierceness  of  spirit,  and  almost  brutality  of  living. 

Well,  now,  it  is  not  easy  to  see  at  first  sight  why 
Marcus  Aurelius  should  not  be  your  ideal  instead  of 
the  Christian  one.  Any  modern  Marcus  who  has  his 
duty  before  him  cannot  but  be  a  man  to  be  respected, 
but  I  will  point  out  something  you  may  never  have 
thought  of.  As  a  rule,  in  this  self-sufficient  type  of 
life,  there  is  something  vicious  at  the  very  base.  It 


ii2  SOME  GREAT  THING 

was  not  so  with  Marcus,  but  it  was  so  with  his 
philosophy.  Stoicism  was  indigenous  to  the  Roman 
Empire.  The  Empire  was  the  expression  of  its 
philosophy.  It  was  one  that  made  strong  men  but 
austere,  and  hard  and  proud.  As  a  rule,  Stoicism, 
as  it  was  commonly  understood,  exhibited  nothing 
of  the  virtue  of  humility,  very  little  of  sympathy. 
It  was  a  Stoic  who  wrote : — 

*'  'Tis  sweet  when  tempests  roar  upon  the  sea 
To  watch  from  land  another's  deep  distress, 
Not  that  his  sorrow  makes  our  happiness, 
But  that  some  sweetness  there  must  ever  be, 
Watching  what  sorrows  we  do  not  possess." 

You  have  only  to  think  of  the  burning  heart  of 
St  Paul  uttering  himself  Godward  for  the  sake  of 
his  kindred,  and  willing  that  he  himself  might  be  a 
castaway  if  so  be  that  they  might  be  saved,  and  then 
to  put  beside  him  the  very  best  that  Stoicism  ever 
produced,  to  see  that  in  its  noble  dignity  it  came 
something  short  of  that  sublime  self-abnegation. 
What  was  there  in  St  Paul  that  Stoicism  never  pos- 
sessed? I  will  tell  you.  It  was  strength  blended 
with  humility  and  with  spiritual  sympathy.  He 
went  deeper  down,  and  he  rose  higher  up  than 
Stoicism  was  ever  capable  of  doing. 

I  say  this  without  trying  to  show  how  worthless 
the  Roman  philosophy  was — quite  the  reverse.  It 
was  a  great  philosophy.  It  did  a  great  work  in  the 
world.  But  the  sun  will  put  out  the  fire  although 
there  is  fire  in  the  sun.  Jesus  makes  Aurelius  un- 


SOME  GREAT  THING  113 

necessary.  And  I  will  venture  to  think  that  if  ever 
Jesus  and  Aurelius  had  met  face  to  face,  if  Aurelius 
had  ever  entered  into  the  spirit  of  the  Christians 
that  he  through  a  sense  of  duty  persecuted,  there 
would  have  been  a  Christian  Emperor  long  before 
Constantine.  He  was  not  far  from  the  kingdom  of 
God. 

History  shows  us  a  few  such  spectacles.  Sir 
Matthew  Hale,  for  instance,  sat  on  the  bench  when 
Bunyan's  wife  came  to  plead  for  her  husband.  The 
humble-minded  judge  did  not  understand,  he  could 
not  see  that  he  was  dealing  with  a  hero  in  that  poor 
Bedford  tinker  who  was  imprisoned  for  conscience' 
sake.  Someone  has  written  very  beautifully,  "  The 
judge  and  the  prisoner  have  met  in  heaven  by  now 
and  understand  each  other  better."  Not  far  apart 
in  spirit  were  they  even  then. 

Of  course  you  feel  that  these  great  souls  such  as 
Marcus  Aurelius,  who  has  been  quoted,  were  not 
very  far  from  Jesus ;  but  you  have  only  to  bring 
Jesus  into  their  company  to  see  that  you  need  not 
follow  Aurelius  nor  make  him  an  ideal,  for  his  ideal 
is  absorbed  and  illuminated  by  the  presence  of  the 
Son  of  God. 

There  is  a  good  deal  of  the  Stoic  temper  about 
to-day.  When  you  look  back  upon  Stoicism  you  are 
doing  a  very  different  thing  from  living  in  the  midst 
of  it.  It  might  have  been  a  good  thing  then  for  a 
man  to  live  as  Aurelius,  but  now  you  cannot  look 
back  upon  the  line  of  history  without  seeing  Jesus 

H 


ii4  SOME  GREAT  THING 

standing  in  the  path.  Are  you  going  to  pass  Him 
to  reach  the  side  of  Aurelius  ?  You  need  never  do 
it.  All  you  want  and  all  he  ever  wanted,  noble 
man,  was  just  to  understand  what  Jesus  asked, 
and  the  type  and  standard  for  which  Jesus  lived. 
More  than  that,  Jesus  is  not  simply  an  example.  He 
is  a  dynamic  of  the  very  character  that  we  commend 
in  Aurelius  himself.  The  sun  puts  out  the  fire,  but 
it  first  kindled  it,  and  it  only  puts  it  out  when  the 
brightness  of  the  shining  and  the  warmth  of  the 
heat  it  gives  makes  the  fire  necessary  no  longer. 
I  was  told  at  luncheon  to-day  of  a  medical  man, 
typical  of  a  great  many  men  like  you,  who  was 
asked  to  come  down  to  the  City  Temple  and  listen 
to  the  preacher.  He  has  no  objection  whatever  to 
the  preacher,  but  he  declined.  His  reason  was  this 
— "  I  do  not  need  it.  I  am  trying  now  to  live  an 
honourable  and  upright  life.  I  am  doing  what  I  can 
to  help  my  fellows,  to  lessen  the  total  of  suffering  in 
the  world."  You  will  believe  me  at  once,  I  am  sure, 
when  I  say  that  for  a  man  like  that  I  feel  a  consider- 
able amount  of  respect,  and  if  it  were  only  a  question 
of  coming  and  hearing  the  preacher  I  should  dismiss 
at  once  all  thought  of  objecting  to  his  contention. 
This  self-respecting  man  with  a  moral  ideal  resembles 
very  greatly  the  Stoic.  But  he  misses  something. 
He  does  not  see  that  it  is  not  the  preacher  he  seeks 
in  the  house  of  God,  it  is  the  something  for  which 
the  preacher  stands.  He  does  not  see  that  the 
person  he  is  rejecting  is  not  the  preacher,  and  the 


SOME  GREAT  THING  115 

preacher's  counsel  has  the  sanction  of  his  own  moral 
ideal.  Why  does  he  not  penetrate  behind  the  why 
and  the  wherefore  of  the  very  life  he  himself  seeks 
to  live  ?  In  all  charity — and  my  words  are  imper- 
sonal— you  will  allow  me  to  give  the  reason.  It  is 
because  of  "  The  Great  Thing."  He  prefers  to  do 
it  rather  than  to  have  it  done  for  him.  And,  mind 
you,  in  every  character  where  that  is  the  prevailing 
mood  and  governs  the  life  there  is  something  short 
of  the  highest.  In  history  grand  things  have  been 
done  by  men  who  could  not  stoop,  and  just  because 
they  could  not  stoop  missed  the  best  and  highest  of 
all.  It  was  a  great  day  when  a  message  was  sent 
from  Paris  in  the  incipient  stage  of  the  Revolution 
to  the  city  of  Marseilles,  "  Send  us  six  hundred  men 
who  know  how  to  die."  They  found  them  on  the 
instant,  and  from  the  march  of  the  six  hundred  men 
upon  Paris  the  history  of  Europe  has  been  changed. 
The  "  Marseillaise  "  was  sung  for  the  first  time. 

It  was  a  great  day  in  the  history  of  the  world — 
though  England  was  playing  then  a  less  noble  part 
— when  a  young  American  in  the  grip  of  the  English 
soldiers  wrote  "  The  Star-Spangled  Banner,"  with 
shot  and  shell  flying  over  his  head,  but  a  great 
enthusiasm,  a  noble  and  unselfish  patriotism  in  his 
heart.  He  would  have  dared  and  done  anything. 
It  was  a  great  thing  to  write  that  song,  and  he  wrote 
it  there. 

It  was  a  great  day  in  the  history  of  humanity 
when  Cromwell  sat  on  his  horse  on  the  shores  of 


u6  SOME  GREAT  THING 

Dunbar  and  lifted  up  his  voice,  along  with  his 
invincible  Ironsides,  and  sang  "  Let  God  arise,  let 
His  enemies  be  scattered."  It  was  a  great  thing 
nobly  done.  But  he  did  some  more  things  in  his 
life  equally  great  that  were  not  so  conspicuous,  and 
one  of  the  sweetest  of  all  was  his  dying  prayer,  a 
prayer  not  first  and  foremost  of  strength,  but  of 
humility.  "  Lord,  bless  Thy  people.  Thou  hast 
made  me  the  means  of  doing  them  some  good  and 
Thee  service.  Pardon  those  who  would  trample 
upon  the  dust  of  a  poor  worm,  and  give  us  a  good 
night,  for  Jesus'  sake."  That  man  could  stoop  as 
well  as  rise,  and  that  is  why  his  sweep  through  the 
firmament  of  history  is  so  magnificent  as  it  is.  He 
could  do  a  great  thing,  but  he  did  not  despise  the 
day  of  small  things.  Nay,  he  was  willing  that  the 
greatest  thing  should  be  done  for  him — he  stooped 
low  at  the  Cross  of  Christ. 

Now,  my  young  hearers,  if  I  were  to  call  you  to 
some  great  deed  of  heroism,  would  you  not  respond? 
(Pardon  me  for  suggesting  that  I,  too,  may  venture 
to-night  to  stand  in  the  place  of  the  prophet  of 
God.)  I  know  you  would — that  spirit  is  not  dead. 
There  are  many  people  who  think  that  chivalry  and 
idealism  have  passed  out  of  English  life.  Nothing 
of  the  sort !  If  I  were  to  ask  for  volunteers  for  a 
forlorn  hope  by  to-morrow,  and  you  knew  they  were 
needed,  we  should  get  them.  I  remember  watching 
at  Bloemfontein  the  taking  of  the  Waterworks, 
when  for  the  moment  the  supply  had  been  cut  off 


SOME  GREAT  THING  117 

by  the  Boers.  It  was  a  terrible  sight,  though,  after 
all,  there  was  not  much  to  see,  but  only  what  it 
suggested.  Common,  ordinary  men,  such  as  you 
and  I  meet  in  the  street  any  day,  were  marching  up 
that  hill  of  death  line  by  line,  with  no  perturbation, 
no  undue  haste.  Slowly,  deliberately,  heroically, 
the  British  soldiers  moved  to  the  summit  of  the  hill 
that  was  held  by  the  hidden  foe,  taking  cover  where 
they  could,  but  rising  in  the  open  when  they  must. 
They  just  did  it.  It  was  called  for.  It  was  duty. 
Those  same  men  would  drink  and  swear  on  Sunday 
night  in  the  public-houses  in  London.  We  know 
them.  They  were  capable  of  the  great  thing  when 
it  was  called  for.  You  never  dreamed  as  you  met 
them  that  there  was  the  hero  in  them,  but  it  was 
there,  just  as  surely  as  it  is  in  you. 

We  read  every  day  of  some  story  of  heroism  in 
the  manning  of  the  lifeboat,  in  the  saving  of  com- 
rades from  the  explosion  in  the  coal  mine,  and  we 
know  the  men  who  do  it,  poor  material,  too,  but 
capable  of  a  great  thing.  And  if  to-morrow  our 
country  were  in  extremity,  if  we  saw  men  in  peril, 
and  it  meant  the  giving  up  of  life  in  the  attempt  to 
rescue  them,  and  we  called  for  men  to  do  it,  they 
would  come.  I  would  guarantee  to  gather  out  of 
this  church  a  devoted  band  who  could  do  the  great 
thing. 

Yes,  you  can  do  all  this,  but  there  are  some  things 
you  cannot  or  will  not  do.  Why  is  it  that  so  many 
manly  fellows  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  religion, 


u8  SOME  GREAT  THING 

are  afraid  to  confess  God — nay,  more,  are  still  less 
willing  to  confess  Christ  than  they  are  to  name  God? 
God  is  only  real  to  you  in  Christ,  but  I  have  noticed 
this,  though  I  am  not  always  able  to  account  for  it, 
that  the  word  "God"  may  come  to  a  man's  lips 
where  he  feels  a  great  delicacy  and  reluctance  about 
the  utterance  of  the  word  "  Christ."  Why  ?  Be- 
cause somehow  the  utterance  of  the  latter  means  a 
certain  amount  of  self-committal.  If  a  man  names 
Christ  with  reverence  and  a  touch  of  simplicity  and 
tenderness,  it  is  implied  that  he  belongs  to  Him. 
You  might  storm  a  height  at  the  cannon's  mouth, 
but  you  do  not  care  for  the  shame  and  ridicule  that 
might  come  from  the  charge  of  inconsistency  or  of 
weakness.  You  give  all  sorts  of  reasons  for  your 
abstention,  and  you  think  them  true.  Suppose  we 
examine  some  of  them. 

I  know  you  in  your  business  house.  You  are 
straight  enough.  Up  to  a  certain  point  your 
standard  is  as  clear  and  honourable  as  that  of  the 
medical  man  I  have  just  named.  But  you  know  as 
well  as  I  do  that  standard  only  holds  good  up  to  a 
point.  It  would  be  a  great  deal  easier  to  stand  with 
Aurelius  than  with  Christ.  All  the  moral  dignity 
and  the  strength  and  the  suggestion,  all  the  self- 
respect  that  heightens  into  pride,  is  easy.  That  is 
as  simple  as  drawing  your  breath.  You  would  be 
ashamed  of  telling  a  lie  for  instance — it  is  easy  to 
tell  the  truth  and  shame  the  devil.  You  will  not 
stoop  to  lie.  I  will  tell  you  what  you  will  not  stoop 


SOME  GREAT  THING  119 

to,  either.  You  will  not  stoop  to  a  confession  of 
need.  You  are  prepared  for  the  great  thing. 
There  is  still  a  greater,  only  it  does  not  seem 
greater,  because  you  come  down  to  it  instead  of  up, 
and  that  is  where  you  do  not  want  to  go.  Do  you 
understand  what  the  sentiment  means  of 

"  Thus  looking  within  and  around  me,  I  ever  renew 
(With  that  stoop  of  the  soul  which  in  bending  upraises  it  too) 
The  submission  of  Man's  nothing-perfect  to  God's  All-Complete, 
As  by  each  new  obeisance  in  spirit,  I  climb  to  his  feet !  " 

Listen  to  this  man's  reason  for  not  joining  himself  to 
Christ.  "  Oh,"  he  says,  "  I  can  live  a  good  life 
without  your  Christ.  I  am  trying  to  do  it.  Do  not 
ask  me  for  professions  which  I  cannot  keep.  There 
is  no  need  for  them."  Is  there  not  ?  "  You  can  live 
a  good  life  without  Christ."  Do  you  not  detect  the 
pride  in  the  statement  ?  Do  you  see  what  it  means  ? 
It  is  the  thrusting  back  upon  self,  as  it  were,  the 
entire  responsibility  for  life.  You  will  get  broken 
at  that  business,  young  man,  before  you  have  gone 
very  far.  If  not  Christ,  then  somebody  else  for  a 
helping  hand — it  has  been  tried  before  and  has  been 
as  big  a  failure  as  you  are  making  it.  You  can 
manage  without  Christ  in  the  living  of  the  right 
life?  Let  us  examine  the  life  and  see.  There  you 
have  a  record  of  it  moment  by  moment,  fact  by  fact, 
across  the  whole  consciousness  of  humanity.  Im- 
possible !  for  you  know  quite  well  you  have  failed 
before  the  ideal  time  and  again.  You  cannot  live 
your  life,  your  right  life,  without  faith  in  some  thing 


120  SOME  GREAT  THING 

or  in  some  one,  and  before  the  days  have  gone  much 
further  you  will  find  yourself  longing  and  yearning 
for  a  stronger  hand  than  yours  to  save  your  manhood. 
Oh,  you  can  live  it,  if  you  will  stop  short.  But 
Aurelius'  standard  will  not  do.  There  is  something 
more  austere  and  exacting  still,  where  you  will  not 
be  required  to  do  the  great  thing.  It  will  be  done 
for  you.  Can  you  stoop  to  it  and  rise  ?  If  the 
prophet  had  bid  thee  do  some  great  thing  wouldest 
thou  not  have  done  it  ?  How  much  more,  then, 
when  he  asks  thee  to  leave  thy  burden  in  the  hands 
of  the  strong  One,  the  Eternal,  the  "Saviour,  Re- 
deemer, and  Friend." 

Here  is  another.  "Christians,"  he  says,  in  self- 
justification,  "are  no  better  than  other  people." 
Leave  Christians  alone.  To  your  own  Master  you 
stand  or  fall.  I  know  all  about  the  weakness  and 
the  waywardness  of  Christians.  It  is  not  too  much 
to  say  that  Christians  have  given  me,  for  instance,  a 
worse  time  than  other  people  have.  But  you  have 
nothing  to  do  with  them.  When  you  stand  before 
the  throne  on  the  great  day — and  it  is  coming,  this 
great  day  of  discovery — you  will  not  be  asked  how 
John  Smith  or  Tom  Jones  lived.  You  will  be  asked 
whether  you  followed  and  obeyed  and  lived  to  the 
ideal  that  was  given  to  you.  If  you  have  seen  the 
Highest,  cleave  to  it,  for  be  sure  the  highest  will 
be  required  of  you.  You  need  not  be  ashamed  of 
being  found  in  the  company  of  Christ.  You  are  only 
asked  to  confess  your  need  of  Him. 


SOME  GREAT  THING  121 

Once  upon  a  time  a  man  in  some  such  mood  as 
yours  drew  to  that  same  Lord  as  He  stood,  a  seem- 
ing peasant,  upon  the  roadway  in  Galilee,  and  kneeled 
down  at  His  feet,  and  this  is  how  He  prayed — "Good 
Master  " — that  is  just  what  you  are  saying,  you  go 
so  far  as  that,  anybody,  and  pay  Him  a  compliment 
— "  Good  Master,  what  shall  I  do  that  I  may  inherit 
eternal  life  ?  "  He  was  perfectly  sincere,  so  are  you. 
His  life  did  not  satisfy  him,  he  wanted  a  better — 
just  like  you.  And  the  Master's  reply  was  nothing 
doctrinal,  very  simple,  "  Thou  knowest  the  com- 
mandments, Do  not  kill,  Do  not  steal,  Do  not  bear 
false  witness,  Honour  thy  father  and  thy  mother." 
The  answer  came,  "  Master,  all  these  I  have  kept 
from  my  youth  up."  The  Master  knew  him,  and, 
speaking  straight  to  the  deepest  in  him,  said,  "  One 
thing  thou  lackest.  Go  and  sell  everything  you 
possess  and  give  it  to  the  poor,  and  follow  Me." 
There  was  one  thing  he  would  not  do.  He  did  the 
grand  thing  of  falling  down  in  the  street — it  meant 
a  good  deal  to  do  that.  But  when  the  Master  said, 
"  Give  your  all,"  he  was  not  prepared  for  that.  I 
have  known  a  man  honest  enough  to  say  that  in  my 
time.  "  I  have  some  things  I  do  not  feel  willing  to 
give  up.  Christ  cannot  have  them,  so  I  cannot  have 
Christ."  But  for  one  such  man  there  are  ten  thou- 
sand who  will  not  acknowledge  the  real  reason  for 
"  staying  away."  It  is  that  they  are  prepared  for 
the  great  thing,  but  not  for  the  lesser,  which  nobody 
sees.  And  the  great  thing  in  your  case  may  be  just 


122  SOME  GREAT  THING 

what  you  are  doing  and  doing  with  a  worthy  manhood. 
But  there  is  something  else  required,  and  it  may  be 
nothing  but  a  giving  up.  You  are  no  hero  if  you 
can  only  be  a  hero  by  a  spurt  and  with  the  band 
playing,  as  it  were.  You  are  a  hero  if  you  are  pre- 
pared to  go  down  as  well  as  to  go  up,  to  give  to 
Christ  all  that  you  have  and  are,  as  well  as  to  do 
something  conspicuously  brave  and  sublime  in  His 
service  under  the  gaze  of  men.  If  the  prophet 
had  bid  thee  do  some  great  thing,  I  know  it  would 
have  been  done.  How,  then,  when  he  asks  thee  to 
come  to  the  Cross  and  leave  everything  there  and 
yield  heart  and  mind  and  soul  into  the  keeping  of 
Him,  and  Him  only  Who  is  really  strong. 

There  is  a  heroism  which  is  as  great  as  any 
I  have  seen.  Look  at  the  heroism  of  John  Wesley ! 
He  learned  something  between  two  periods  in 
his  life,  the  former  when  he  was  going  out 
to  America  as  a  young  man.  When  the  storm 
came  he  screamed  and  trembled.  He  was  like  a 
woman — I  withdraw  that  word — he  was  in  terror  of 
the  elements.  Some  of  the  sailors  laughed  at  him, 
for  they  were  men  who  could  face  the  great  thing, 
he  was  not.  They  would  have  gone  down  into  the 
great  deep  if  necessary,  the  heroes  that  they  were. 
Wesley,  the  Christian,  was  not.  But  he  saw  some- 
thing that  filled  him  with  awe,  a  little  group  of  men 
and  women,  Moravian  Christians,  standing  and  sing- 
ing, singing  in  the  midst  of  the  tempest,  as  near  to 
God  by  sea  as  they  were  by  land,  and  altering  their 


SOME  GREAT  THING  123 

demeanour  no  whit  for  the  presence  of  the  storm. 
Wesley  felt  there  was  something  missing  in  him, 
and  he  learned,  and  the  time  came  when  that  same 
man  was  gripped  by  a  murderous  crowd  and  led  to 
what  seemed  certain  death.  All  through  one 
memorable  night  Wesley,  the  preacher,  who  only 
sought  their  good,  was  being  hurried  hither  and 
thither,  now  to  be  drowned,  now  to  be  stoned,  now 
to  be  hanged,  as  the  mood  of  the  mob  changed.  He 
was  none  of  them,  but  it  would  not  have  mattered 
— he  was  ready.  His  own  account  of  it  was  this — 
he  was  just  as  quiet  and  just  as  undemonstrative 
when  he  was  the  obscure  person  whom  England 
would  not  have  said  very  much  about  it  if  he  had 
been  murdered,  as  he  was  in  the  great  assembly 
when  he  stood  face  to  face  with  thousands  and  tens 
of  thousands  of  listening  hearers — just  the  same  man 
in  the  moment  of  sublime  victory,  and  the  same  man 
prepared  to  face  ignominy  and  shame  and  death. 
What  made  the  difference?  Why,  Wesley  had 
found  the  real  Christ,  and  the  real  Christ  made  a 
hero  as  great  as  any  Aurelius  of  them  all,  a  hero, 
too,  who  could  show  himself  such  on  all  occasions, 
and  a  hero  whose  dignity  was  present,  not  in  hard- 
ness in  the  time  of  such  conflict  as  I  have  described, 
such  thrilling  danger,  but  in  sweetness  and  in  sym- 
pathy and  in  love.  He  would  have  knelt  and  prayed 
for  these  same  murderers,  and  would  have  counted 
it  a  glorious  thing  if  he  had  been  destroyed  for  their 
sakes,  if  they  had  been  gathered  into  the  kingdom. 


i24  SOME  GREAT  THING 

It  is  to  such  a  character  as  that  I  am  calling  you, 
and  to  such  an  ideal  as  that  I  summon  you.  It  is  a 
great  thing,  only  the  world  does  not  always  count  it 
such.  If  you  will  expect  some  great  thing,  it  will  be 
by  taking  a  greater  thing  from  Christ  Himself.  He 
will  make  you  capable  of  it.  You  will  be  glad  to 
owe  it  to  Him.  You  will  go  back  to  your  business 
to-morrow  prepared  for  scorn,  you  will  go  back  to 
be  taunted,  if  need  be,  with  something  you  feel 
conscience  requires  you  to  do  or  to  leave  undone, 
and  you  will  defy  the  conventions  of  society.  Many 
would  rush  to  the  point  of  the  bayonet  who  would 
not  do  that.  The  great  want  of  the  present  hour  is 
moral  grit.  Dare  to  live  your  true  life.  Let  no  man 
interfere  with  you  in  your  relations  with  your  God. 
And  if  you  know  a  thing  to  be  true  and  feel  it  to  be 
demanded  of  you  and  see  it  to  be  the  highest  that 
has  ever  crossed  your  path,  and  you  feel  your  urgent 
need  of  the  clasp  of  the  Lord  Divine,  why,  my  brother, 
surrender !  It  will  be  the  grandest  thing  you  ever 
did  in  your  life,  far  more  so  than  following  the  petty 
ideals  which  now  satisfy  you.  If  the  prophet  asked 
for  some  great  thing,  he  would  get  it  from  you. 
The  forgiveness  of  sin,  the  strengthening  of  man- 
hood for  the  battle  with  the  tempter,  all  are  from 
Him  Who  is  really  the  source  of  good  in  every  man, 
whether  he  acknowledges  Him  or  not,  "that  in  all 
things  He  might  have  the  pre-eminence  "  He  de- 
serves. "  Humble  yourselves  under  the  mighty  hand 
of  God,  and  He  shall  lift  you  up."  "  If  any  man 


SOME  GREAT  THING  125 

willeth  to  do  the  will  of  My  Father  which  is  in 
heaven,  he  shall  know  of  the  doctrine,  whether 
it  be  of  God  or  whether  I  speak  of  Myself." 
"  For  whoso  loveth  his  life  shall  lose  it ;  but 
whoso  loseth  his  life  for  My  sake  shall  keep  it  unto 
life  eternal." 


ETERNAL  PUNISHMENT  AND 
ETERNAL  LIFE 


THIS  sermon  was  asked  for  by  some  of  the  younger  members  of 
the  congregation.  It  gave  rise  to  some  questioning  on  the  part  of 
those  at  whose  request  the  text  had  been  chosen.  As  a  result 
of  this  questioning  a  further  aspect  of  the  subject  was  treated  some 
weeks  later,  and  entitled  the  Law  of  Retribution.  The  supreme 
difficulty  of  those  who  correspond  with  me  upon  these  sermons 
appears  to  have  been  the  content  of  the  word  Eternal.  Some  have 
understood  me  to  teach  that  all  sin  revenges  itself  in  an  everlasting 
sequence  without  hope  of  remedy,  while  others,  oddly  enough, 
have  understood  me  to  mean  that  sin  is  punished  in  this  life  and  in 
this  life  alone.  I  need  hardly  point  out  to  readers  of  these  two 
sermons  that  in  my  view  of  this  great  and  solemn  subject  there  is 
no  possibility  of  avoiding  what  is  commonly  termed  the  punishment 
of  sin.  But  punishment  has  a  merciful  purpose,  and  repentance, 
which  shrinks  not  to  accept  the  consequences  of  sin,  secures  in  the 
divine  order  their  certain  transformation  into  good.  Eternal  life 
is  expressed  in  kind,  not  in  duration,  and  every  true  follower  of 
Christ  is  in  possession  of  it  now. 


VIII 

"These  shall  go  away  into  everlasting  punishment,  but  the  righteous 
into  life  eternal." — ST  MATTHEW  xxv.  46. 

TO-NIGHT  I  wish  to  teach  rather  than  exhort,  or  to 
exhort  only  by  the  teaching  and  its  implications.  This 
text  is  a  most  solemn  and  important  utterance  of  our 
Lord,  and  we  have  no  reason  to  doubt  that  the 
parable  in  which  it  appears  is  given  to  us  substantially 
as  it  came  from  Him.  But  you  may  have  observed 
for  yourselves  that  the  words  of  the  text  do  not 
appear  in  the  Revised  Version  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment precisely  as  they  appear  in  the  Authorised,  and 
the  change  is  not  unimportant.  The  Authorised 
Version  reads,  as  you  have  already  heard,  "  These 
shall  go  away  into  everlasting  punishment;  but  the 
righteous  into  life  eternal."  Now  the  word  which  is 
translated  "  everlasting "  in  the  former  part  of  the 
text  is  precisely  the  word  which  is  translated 
"  eternal  "  in  the  latter  part.  Therefore  the  revisers 
of  the  New  Testament  have  given  us  the  sentence 
thus : — "  These  shall  go  away  into  eternal  punish- 
ment: but  the  righteous  into  eternal  life."  The 
word  "  everlasting  "  represents  the  received  theology 
of  the  seventeenth  century,  when  the  Authorised 
Version  of  the  Bible,  as  we  have  it,  and  in  many 

I  »«9 


1 30      ETERNAL  PUNISHMENT  AND 

ways  the  more  admirable  version,  was  first  promul- 
gated. The  word  "  eternal,"  however,  which  takes 
its  place  in  the  Revised  Version,  is  so  much  truer  to 
what  I  feel  our  Lord's  meaning  must  have  been  that 
I  would  like  to  dwell  upon  what  I  take  to  be  its 
content  for  a  few  moments. 

Any  Greek,  or  any  person  accustomed  to  speak 
Greek  amongst  those  who  first  heard  our  Lord  make 
use  of  this  word,  would  be  in  no  doubt  as  to  its 
meaning.  Perhaps  our  Lord  did  speak  in  Greek. 
Greek  was  well  understood  throughout  the  whole 
region  in  which  His  teaching  was  given.  It  was 
what  French  became  a  little  while  ago  to  modern 
Europe,  the  language  of  common  intercourse  as  be- 
tween people  who  spoke  various  and  little  understood 
dialects.  Perhaps  He  did  not  speak  in  Greek.  He 
may  have  spoken  in  Aramaic.  If  so,  you  may  be 
perfectly  sure  that  the  word  which  is  rendered  by 
this  Greek  term  "  eternal "  was  one  which  in  our 
Lord's  mind  bore  exactly  the  same  meaning. 

Now,  what  does  "  eternal "  mean  ?  I  will  give 
you  one  of  its  meanings  first,  which  I  may  call  its 
lesser  meaning,  and  which  though  not  necessarily 
contradicting  the  larger  meaning,  certainly  limits  it. 
It  may  mean  "age-long."  The  word  "eternal"  is 
aiwios  and  it  has  for  its  root  a/uv  "an  age,"  or  a  vague 
period  of  time.  What  our  Lord  may  have  meant  to 
say  here  is,  "These  shall  go  away  into  age-long 
punishment,"  not  specifying  how  long,  "and  the 
righteous  into  age-long  life." 


ETERNAL  LIFE  131 

But  as  you  see,  and  it  is  often  pointed  out,  this 
interpretation  of  the  term  logically  carries  with  it 
this  conclusion,  that  as  the  punishment  of  the  wicked 
is  not  necessarily  endless  but  age-long,  so  the  bliss 
of  the  righteous  is  not  endless  either.  We  feel  at 
once,  then,  that  our  Lord  could  not  be  speaking 
in  such  indefinite  language  as  to  hold  out  a  sort 
of  limited  hope  to  those  who  lived  worthily  and 
righteously  in  this  world.  It  is  not  age-long  life 
that  He  promises.  It  is  something  vaster,  nobler 
than  that. 

Well,  then,  we  will  put  aside  that  one  meaning. 
As  I  have  said,  it  does  not  necessarily  contradict 
what  I  am  now  going  to  tell  you,  but  it  certainly  limits 
it.  The  word  "eternal,"  however,  as  used  in  the 
Greek  language,  may  mean — often  does  mean — 
that  which  is  outside  of,  and  above,  and  tran- 
scends, and  supersedes  time.  Or  we  will  put 
it  in  another  way,  the  eternal  is  the  real,  as 
opposed  to  the  seeming.  Please  bear  that  in  mind 
while  we  are  going  a  little  further  in  our  examina- 
tion of  the  text.  The  way  in  which  many  under- 
stand this  text,  even  those  who  do  not  believe  it,  is 
that  "  eternal  "  is  equivalent  to  "  everlasting."  Let 
me  give  you  an  illustration.  I  was  reading  only  last 
night,  in  a  paper  which  appears  week  by  week — I 
may  as  well  name  it,  I  have  named  it  before,  it  is 
called  T.  P.V  Weekly — a  little  chapter  of  autobio- 
graphy in  which  the  well-known  journalist  whose 
name  is  given  to  the  paper,  describes  his  own 


i32      ETERNAL  PUNISHMENT  AND 

childhood.  Mr  T.  P.  O'Connor  says,  that  one  of 
the  ideas  which  came  home  to  his  imagination 
most  forcibly  when  a  boy,  was  that  of  eternity, 
and  it  was  because  at  the  school  which  he 
attended,  and  which  I  take  to  have  been  a  Roman 
Catholic  school,  there  were  certain  seasons  when 
the  boys  were  required  to  abstain  from  play,  from 
the  usual  indulgences  of  boyhood,  and  betake  them- 
selves to  meditation  and  devotion.  Amongst  the 
books  which  Mr  O'Connor  then  read  was  one  which 
he  said  brought  home  to  him  with  the  utmost  force 
the  idea  of  eternity.  This,  he  says,  is  the  way  it 
was  taught.  Speaking  of  the  fate  of  the  impenitent, 
the  writer  of  the  little  devotional  manual  went  on  to 
say — Supposing  at  the  end  of  a  million  years  of 
torment,  a  soul  who  had  been  condemned  to  ever- 
lasting punishment  were  to  raise  himself  from  his 
agony  and  ask  what  time  it  was,  the  answer  would 
be  "  It  is  eternity."  At  the  end  of  another  million 
years  suppose  the  same  soul  again  to  raise  his 
suffering  eyes  and  ask  what  time  it  was,  the  answer 
would  come  just  the  same — "  Eternity,  and  eternity 
is  only  beginning."  To  an  imaginative  boy  such  as 
Mr  O'Connor  must  have  been,  I  can  well  understand 
with  what  pungency  the  content  of  eternity  as  thus 
presented  must  have  come  home  to  him.  But  it 
is  an  awful  thing  to  think  of  eternity  in  that  way. 
If  Mr  O'Connor  were  as  learned  in  the  history  of 
thought  as  he  certainly  is  master  of  letters  he  would 
know  that  to  a  Greek  that  was  not  eternity,  but  it 


ETERNAL  LIFE  133 

is  quite  true  of  his  mediaeval  theology — and  there 
was  not  a  pin  to  choose  in  that  respect  between 
Romanism  and  Calvinism ;  we  have  not  escaped  it 
to-day;  it  is  still  in  our  midst,  and  my  solemn 
purpose  to-night  is  to  address  you  who  have  ceased 
to  believe  it  and  have  not  known  what  to  put  in  its 
place.  I  was  passing  the  other  day  by  a  great 
expanse  of  advertising  wall,  and  I  saw  on  it  in  large 
letters,  put  there  by  some  zealous  follower  of 
Christ,  "  Where  will  you  spend  Eternity  ? "  and 
mentally  I  instantly  amended  the  phrase  to  myself, 
"  How  am  I  spending  eternity  ?  "  We  have  a  way 
of  thinking  of  eternity  as  coming  by  and  by,  that 
it  will  be  endless  time.  Believe  me,  my  brethren, 
eternity  is  not  coming ;  it  is  here,  it  is  now.  We 
are  speaking  as  if  we  had  something  to  wait  and  to 
watch  for.  "  Where  will  you  spend  eternity  ? " 
But  the  thought  which  has  most  authority  with 
conscience  ought  to  be  this,  "  What  am  I  doing  in 
eternity  ?  How  am  I  using  the  eternal  now  ?  " 

For  brethren — here  I  beg  that  you  will  give  me 
your  patient  attention  for  a  moment — there  is  really 
no  such  thing  as  time.  The  eternal  is  the  only  real. 
You  cannot  put  a  bound  to  time  at  either  end. 
Follow  history  back  as  far  as  it  will  go  till  it  is  lost 
in  the  dim  regions  of  antiquity,  and  ask  what  lies 
beyond  at  that  end.  Endless  time;  in  a  word, 
infinity  of  days.  And  follow  through  the  hours 
when  your  life  ends,  until  history  ends,  too,  at  the 
other  end.  Can  you  put  a  bound  to  time  there,  and 


134       ETERNAL  PUNISHMENT  AND 

what  is  the  term?  There  is  no  term.  Time  is 
endless.  There  again  is  infinity  of  days.  Pluck 
out  of  the  midst  of  it  your  twenty,  thirty,  forty, 
fifty  years  of  life,  and  how  much  is  left  of  the 
grand  total?  Precisely  what  there  was  before  you 
began  counting,  infinity  of  days.  The  moment  you 
try  to  grasp  this  thought  it  eludes  you.  Yet  there 
is  no  escape  from  the  conclusion  that  there  is  no 
time,  there  is  only  eternity.  I  cannot  mark  eternity 
off  in  days,  and  weeks,  and  months,  and  years,  and 
centuries,  because  it  is  only  God's  unchanging  now. 
The  fact  is,  time,  like  space,  is  a  sort  of  limita- 
tion imposed  on  thought.  I  say  like  space.  Let 
me  illustrate  again.  I  look  towards  the  west  wall  of 
the  building  wherein  I  am  speaking.  What  lies 
beyond  that  barrier  ?  Space.  And  beyond  it  ?  Yet 
again  space.  And  what  beyond  that  ?  Imagination 
can  carry  you  no  further — infinity.  At  this  end 
infinity  too,  so  west,  north,  and  south,  there  is  no 
boundary  to  that  whereon  you  stand.  Hold  firmly 
for  a  moment  to  the  thought.  If  I  could  lift  you 
and  the  Church  and  all  that  appeals  to  our  senses 
here,  out  of  the  midst  of  this  infinity,  how  much 
would  be  left  ?  Just  as  much  as  there  was  before. 
You  can  take  no  section  of  the  infinite.  All  that 
we  are  compelled  to  say  concerning  this  fact,  which 
is  a  fact,  and  an  unescapable  fact  too,  is,  space  does 
not  exist.  I  am  compelled  to  think  in  its  categories 
just  as  I  am  compelled  to  think  in  the  categories  of 
time,  but  neither  of  them  really  is.  Neither  time 


ETERNAL  LIFE  135 

nor  space,   but  only  eternity  and  the   infinite  are 
true. 

Now,  brethren,  if  you  have  followed  me  in  my 
philosophising  so  far — every  one  of  us  is  an  embryo 
philosopher — may  I  ask  you  to  look  again  at  our 
text.  The  temporal  is  that  within  which  we  are 
limited.  The  conception  of  everlasting,  even,  is  an 
instance  of  that  limitation.  We  speak  of  eternity 
as  time  added  to  time  added  to  time  added  to  time 
ad  infinitum.  It  is  impossible.  There  is  no  such 
thing.  The  time  element  must  come  out.  The 
fact  that  we  are  conscious  of  it  is  simply  a  proof 
of  our  limitation.  Why  we  should  be  thus  limited 
we  do  not  fully  know,  but  sometimes  I  think  I  see 
glimpses  of  the  reason.  It  is  that  we  may  know 
against  the  dark  background  of  evil  the  meaning  of 
the  good.  We  may  not  know  very  much  about  the 
mystery  of  life,  but  we  know  just  enough  to  find  a 
right  way  through  it.  The  man  who  is  living  for 
what  he  feels  to  be  highest,  for  what  he  knows  to 
be  the  right,  has  it  always  written  with  unmistakable 
plainness  within  him.  That  man  knows  that  he  is 
moving  towards  escape  from  his  limitation.  By 
every  good  act  or  thought  we  rise  above  our  limita- 
tion, as  it  were,  and  come  into  immediate  relationship 
with  the  life  which  never  changes,  which  is  the  life 
of  God,  and  thus  we  are  prepared  a  little  for  an 
understanding  of  our  Lord's  strange  words  in  the 
seventeenth  of  St  John :  "  This  is  life  eternal,  that 
they  might  know  Thee,  the  only  true  God,  and 
Jesus  Christ  Whom  Thou  hast  sent." 


136      ETERNAL  PUNISHMENT  AND 

By  implication,  what  are  we  to  say,  then,  is  the 
absence  of  this?  Can  I  find  a  better  word  than 
punishment  ?  Punishment  is  limitation  accepted, 
punishment  is  the  placing  of  the  soul  in  a  prison- 
house,  punishment  is  to  dwell  in  the  eternal  with- 
out seeing  that  it  is  eternal,  punishment  is  to  be 
content  with  the  material,  though  the  material  may 
bring  pain  to  the  soul.  Punishment,  in  a  word,  is 
prison,  liberty  is  eternal  life.  Every  evil  thought 
or  deed  is  limitation  accepted.  Death  will  not 
free  you,  for  death  itself  is  only  an  incident  in 
eternity. 

"  As  the  tree  falls,  so  must  it  lie ; 
As  a  man  lives,  so  shall  he  die." 

Now  I  trust  I  have  shown  you  something  of  what 
eternity  really  means.  It  is  God's  now.  The  in- 
troductory words  of  our  parable  show  that  this  is 
so.  "  When  the  Son  of  Man  shall  come  in  His 
glory,  and  all  the  holy  angels  with  Him,  then  shall 
He  sit  on  the  throne  of  His  glory,  and  before  Him 
shall  be  gathered  all  the  nations."  When  ?  Now. 
You  are  not  waiting  for  the  judgment,  it  is  going 
on.  You  are  before  the  judgment  seat  of  Christ 
at  this  moment.  All  your  thoughts  are  read  in  the 
light  of  the  eternal.  God  makes  no  mistakes.  The 
mercy  of  Christ  is  such  that  it  will  not  spare. 

It  is  impossible  not  to  believe  in  eternal  punish- 
ment. Every  act,  every  thought  of  evil  draws  to 
itself  its  own  inevitable  result.  "Be  not  deceived, 
God  is  not  mocked.  Whatsoever  a  man  soweth, 


ETERNAL  LIFE  137 

that  shall  he  also  reap."  We  are  not  waiting  for 
eternity  to  have  the  balance  put  right.  Men  may 
feel  that  they  have  dodged  God,  as  it  were.  They 
have  not.  Some  of  us  who  have  been  trying  to 
live  righteously  feel  as  though  it  were  well  with  the 
unrighteous.  It  never  is.  Inevitably,  here  or  on 
the  other  side  of  death,  wrong  living  works  itself 
out  in  tragedy.  There  is  no  tragedy  so  dreadful 
as  that  of  the  soul  which  has  sinned  against  itself. 
What  is  punishment  but  the  imprisonment  of  the 
soul  in  its  own  wickedness?  Retribution  is  ab- 
solutely inevitable  and  unescapable.  Some  of  you 
talk  as  though  it  were  never  so.  I  have  heard  it 
said  that  the  moment  you  eliminate  the  time  element 
from  the  thought  of  eternity  you  have  taken  away 
its  dread.  It  is  the  exact  opposite  with  me.  The 
moment  I  take  the  time  element  out  it  seems  as 
if  eternity  is  crashing  upon  me.  I  feel  as  though  it 
were  impossible  to  doubt  that  the  lash  descends, 
the  punishment  comes,  the  prison  door  is  closed 
upon  the  soul.  You  told  a  lie,  that  lie  has  turned 
to  rend  you,  has  shut  you  under  its  own  baleful 
influence.  You  turned  from  the  pathway  of  right 
towards  sensual  self-indulgence,  and  lo !  you  become 
a  prisoner  of  your  flesh,  and  of  the  flesh  see  corrup- 
tion. You  do  harm  to  another,  and  by  and  by  the 
harm  comes  back  again  to  you  with  compound  in- 
terest. "  He  that  speakest  against  Me  wrongeth  his 
own  soul."  Men  talk  about  eternity  as  though  they 
could  afford  to  wait  for  it  and  will  be  prepared  for 


138       ETERNAL  PUNISHMENT  AND 

God's  judgments  when  they  come.  They  know 
very  little  of  the  real  meaning  of  the  judgment. 
Here  and  now,  with  resistless  force — for  God  cannot 
be  cajoled — descends  the  penalty  of  a  sinful  life. 

Some  of  you  are  living  as  it  were  like  a  man 
sleeping  in  the  topmost  storey  of  a  burning  house 
and  telling  himself  that  there  is  no  danger  until 
the  fire  reaches  that  floor.  The  foundations  are 
gone.  So  it  is  with  evil  life.  The  man  who  lives 
falsely  is  already  undermined  by  the  judgments  of 
God.  It  is  punishment  to  be  shut  off  from  eternal 
life  and  beauty,  joy,  love.  Death  itself  can  give 
him  no  rescue.  It  simply  takes  the  bad  man,  as  it 
were,  from  one  prison-house  to  another,  and  gives 
him  on  the  way  a  glimpse  of  the  blue  sky  above 
and  the  fresh  sweet  air  in  the  midst  of  which  he 
might  live  and  ought  to  have  lived.  All  punishment 
is  eternal.  All  true  living  is  eternal.  God's  eternal 
now  is  the  one  thing  from  which  the  bad  man 
cannot  escape  and  the  good  man  does  not  want  to 
escape. 

There  is  nothing  like  illustration.  May  I  close 
my  sermon  with  one  ?  Suppose  we  had  before  us 
here  two  rich  men.  I  have  no  sympathy  with  the 
cant  which  speaks  as  though  it  were  an  absurd  idea 
for  a  man  to  dream  of  being  rich.  Wealth  is  power. 
All  power  may  be  used  for  good.  But  there  is 
a  point  beyond  which  no  man  can  strive  for 
money  without  perilling  his  soul,  and  I  will  show 
you  what  I  mean.  We  have  heard  of  a  millionaire 


ETERNAL  LIFE  139 

— he  shall  be  nameless  for  the  moment — who  spent 
his  life  in  amassing  money  by  every  means  in  his 
power.  He  had  no  scruples  as  to  the  way  in 
which  he  obtained  it.  He  would  rob  on  a  large 
scale  or  a  small.  Conscience  appeared  to  be  dead. 
He  was  only  a  scourge  to  the  community  in  the 
land  in  which  he  lived.  In  the  end,  one  day,  in 
a  drunken  delirium,  he  leapt  overboard  and  the 
ocean  swallowed  him.  Does  anybody  feel  that 
there  was  no  tragedy  in  an  end  like  that?  I  do 
not  say  it  was  inevitable.  That  man  might  have 
lived  a  cool,  calculating,  hardened  ruffian,  steeled 
against  the  opinion  of  the  world.  Would  he  have 
escaped  tragedy?  I  trow  not.  He  might  have 
waited  till  the  last  dread  hour  when  the  summons 
came  which  no  man  can  refuse  to  obey,  and  then 
he  would  see  that  his  guilty  gold  had  built  a  prison- 
house  around  his  shrivelled  soul,  and  out  of  that 
prison-house  he  could  find  no  means  of  escape. 

Some  theologians  would  say  eternity  would  be 
the  beginning  of  his  self-discovery.  Eternity — 
eternity  is  here.  Death  may  have  been  the  begin- 
ning of  his  self-discovery  of  his  misuse  of  eternity,  and 
the  penalty  descends  upon  him  who  had  gained  all 
he  sought  to  gain,  but  in  the  gaining  had  lost  his 
soul. 

But  here  is  another  man,  and  I  do  not  shrink 
from  naming  him.  We  will  say  a  Samuel  Morley 
stands  before  us.  God  has  blessed  this  man  with 
this  world's  goods  and  abundance  of  them.  But 


1 40      ETERNAL  PUNISHMENT  AND 

what  use  does  he  make  of  them  ?  How  many  souls 
have  been  lifted  nearer  God  for  the  helping  hand 
and  the  power  of  Samuel  Morley?  How  many 
lives  have  been  sweeter,  how  much  corruption  has 
been  swept  away,  who  can  tell  ?  Wealth  could  not 
build  a  prison-house  around  that  man's  soul.  It 
rather  furnished  him  with  wings  to  fly.  Poor  men, 
do  not  mistake  me.  God  has  given  you  your  op- 
portunities, too.  They  are  not  the  same  as  Samuel 
Morley's.  Making  friends  of  the  Mammon  of  un- 
righteousness is  a  perilous  thing  to  do,  and  without 
it  you  may  enter  into  the  eternal  habitations. 

Let  me  give  you  another  figure.  Here  is  a 
young  roue  who  has  brought  down  his  father's  grey 
hairs  in  sorrow  to  the  grave.  Many  a  worthy  man 
has  an  unworthy  son,  and  of  all  unsolved  problems 
I  think  the  problem  of  an  evil  succession  to  a  noble 
example,  a  bad  son  to  a  good  father,  is  one  of  the 
greatest.  This  lad  has  broken  the  heart  of  the 
nearest  and  dearest.  He  has  had  every  indulgence 
that  money  could  buy,  every  opportunity  that  human 
affection  could  give,  all  to  no  purpose.  Those  who 
loved  him  had  simply  furnished  him  with  the  means 
to  destroy  himself.  A  sort  of  sinister  devil  seems 
to  possess  him.  He  knows  the  anguish  he  has 
caused,  and  some  day,  when  he  has  run  his  course 
and  has  no  more  to  hope  for  from  boon  companions 
in  this  life,  when  all  the  means  that  were  once  at 
his  disposal  for  the  ruin  of  himself  and  others  are 
squandered,  when  he,  as  a  derelict  on  the  ocean  of 


ETERNAL  LIFE  141 

life  comes  to  himself,  young  men,  that  roue  must  be 
suffering  the  tortures  of  the  damned.  He  is  not 
waiting  for  some  hell  of  a  million  years ;  he  has  a 
hell  of  to-day,  he  has  the  horror  of  this  night,  he 
has  the  feeling  of  tragic  failure.  He  knows  himself 
in  the  grip  of  a  demon  whom  he  cannot  shake  off. 
He  has  exchanged  heaven  for  hell,  and  love  for 
hate.  What  sort  of  punishment  do  you  call  that? 
I  call  it  the  punishment  of  God's  unchanging  now. 
As  he  has  sown,  so  he  has  reaped.  The  penalty 
did  not  wait.  It  descended  upon  him  with  the  first 
sin.  The  second  was  easier  because  of  that.  The 
sequence  you  now  see. 

Here  is  yet  another,  quite  different  from 
either  of  these  two,  a  man  present,  perhaps,  in 
the  congregation.  A  Christian?  Oh,  no,  nothing 
so  weak  and  so  childish  as  that !  This  man  is 
superior  to  all  the  ordinary  sanctions  of  that  curious 
snivelling  creature  called  a  Christian — is  a  man 
of  the  world.  He  is  as  hard  as  a  flint.  He  does 
not  stand  very  high  in  the  opinion  of  mankind, 
but  you  cannot  describe  him  as  a  failure.  No  man 
can  get  inside  the  joints  of  his  armour.  He  knows 
well  how  to  defend  himself.  Do  not  appeal  to  this 
man  for  pity.  Do  not  appeal  to  his  better  self.  He 
seems  to  have  none.  It  was  not  always  so.  He 
had  once.  Mark  the  dread  law.  That  man  has 
stifled  every  good  impulse.  Meaning  to  get  on  in 
life  he  has  trampled  under  foot  all  that  he  formerly 
held  to  be  noble.  All  his  squeamishness  has  left 


142       ETERNAL  PUNISHMENT  AND 

him.  He  no  longer  has  scruples.  When  he  wants 
a  thing  he  gets  it ;  if  he  feels  he  would  like  to  do  a 
thing  he  does  not  stop  to  measure  whether  in  the 
judgment  of  the  eternal  it  is  good  or  bad.  He  is 
too  hard.  What  can  you  expect  from  this  man  ? 
No  Gospel  will  ever  find  entry  through  his  sheet 
armour.  All  I  can  say  is  that  the  inevitable  moment 
is  coming  when  the  cumulative  penalty  of  the  way 
he  has  been  living  will  come  home  to  him.  He  may 
be  too  insensible  ever  to  know  what  it  means  on 
this  side  of  death.  You  go  hoping  that  at  the 
deathbed  of  the  wicked  you  may  see  a  belated 
repentance.  Nothing  of  the  kind.  Ten  to  one  he 
will  die  as  callous  as  he  lives.  But  then  ?  But 
then  ?  The  poor  shrivelled  soul  will  pass  into  the 
presence  of  his  Maker,  but  not  into  liberty,  not  to 
gladness,  only  to  disillusion  and  the  outer  darkness, 
one  prison-house  exchanged  for  another.  You  would 
not  change  with  him  now.  He  is  in  prison  and 
does  not  see  it,  but  you  see  it  and  you  do  not  want 
to  go  where  he  is,  where  he  lives,  even  now.  He 
has  trifled  with  eternity  here,  and  now  eternity  is 
avenging  itself  upon  him.  He  is  shut  away  from 
God,  and  the  worm  that  dieth  not  is  busy  with 
him — remorse,  self-loathing,  the  conscience  is 
tortured  with  the  thought  of  forfeited  possibility 
and  the  long,  long  night  that  lies  between  him  and 
righteousness  again.  How  much  more,  who  shall 
say,  but  all  this  is  said  by  our  Lord  in  this  figure 
of  the  Last  Judgment.  It  is  not  the  judgment  that 


ETERNAL  LIFE  143 

has  been  waiting.  That  man  was  a  prisoner  long 
ago,  but  he  did  not  know  it.  The  hour  comes 
when  he  does  know  it,  and  then  he  feels  what  was 
true  before,  the  punishment  eternal  is  upon  him. 

Will  you  compare  with  these  depressing  and 
sinister  examples  another  I  will  give  you  ?  I  could 
choose  if  I  liked  some  suffering  saint  with  whom 
suffering  seems  to  be  limitation  in  this  world,  and 
nothing  is  liberty  and  little  joy.  But  I  will  not. 
I  will  choose  just  some  ordinary  man  out  of  this 
congregation  and  make  his  experience  speak.  Here 
is  a  business  man  in  a  small  way,  just  an  ordinary 
man,  a  hundred  of  whom  you  will  meet  in  the  course 
of  a  hundred  yards  to-morrow  on  your  way  to  the 
city.  This  man  is  trying  to  do  right,  to  live  the 
straight  life,  to  keep  near  to  God.  He  feels  there 
is  a  God  to  serve,  a  God  who  is  one  of  righteousness 
and  love.  That  man  has  not  been  prosperous  in  the 
world.  Do  you  think  he  has  made  a  bad  invest- 
ment ?  If  you  could  get  that  man  to  stand  up  and 
speak  to  you,  he  would  say  that  if  he  had  his  time 
to  come  over  again  and  his  sacrifice  to  make,  for  the 
sake  of  the  right  and  the  true  he  would  make  it  over 
again.  There  is  a  blessing  now.  There  is  a  voice 
that  speaks  within.  There  is  an  experience  of 
which  nobody  can  rob  him.  He  knows  what  that 
is.  This  is  life  eternal,  that  this  man's  eyes  are 
fixed  upon  God.  He  has  risen  above  his  prison- 
house.  The  world  may  refuse  him  his  rewards,  but 
with  God  he  already  is  in  spirit  at  one,  and  this  is 


144      ETERNAL  PUNISHMENT  AND 

life  eternal.  Moreover,  there  is  a  day  coming  to  him 
when  he  who  now  sees  as  through  a  glass  darkly 
shall  see  face  to  face,  when  the  last  barrier  falls 
down,  when  the  last  veil  is  removed.  O  glorious 
liberty  of  the  children  of  God  !  "  His  righteousness 
shall  shine  forth  as  the  noonday  in  the  Kingdom  of 
the  Father." 

Mark  our  Lord's  solemn  teaching  concerning  the 
great  Revelation  to  come.  It  is  not  the  number  of 
propositions  you  could  repeat  about  God  ;  it  is  the 
way  you  have  lived.  I  have  been  astonished  some- 
times to  reflect  how  it  is  that  the  theologians  so 
often  miss  the  point  of  this  parable.  What  is  it 
all  about  ?  Some  of  the  people  who  were  most 
astonished  when  they  heard  the  Master's  "Come, 
ye  blessed  of  My  Father,"  were  those  who  did  not 
know  they  had  been  standing  in  the  forefront  of 
the  battle,  and  did  not  know  they  had  been  on  the 
watchtowers  waiting  for  the  coming  of  the  morning. 
I  will  tell  you  what  they  did  know.  They  knew 
what  it  was  to  live  nobly,  and  they  triumphed. 
There  are  some  men  before  me  doing  that  now. 
Well,  my  brother,  I  want  to  speak  to  you  one  word 
of  revelation  from  the  heart  of  the  Most  High. 
You  are  on  the  right  way.  I  beseech  you  to  see 
all  that  lies  before  you  in  so  far  as  God  means  you 
to  see.  And  there  is  one  thing  I  think  He  means 
you  to  see,  and  that  is  that  the  smile  of  the  Father 
is  yours,  that  the  presence  of  the  Saviour  divine  is 
with  you  all  the  days,  that  you  have  never  won  a 


ETERNAL  LIFE  145 

victory  yet  in  a  strength  that  was  your  own  and 
yours  alone,  and  when  you  have  seemed  least  sup- 
ported as  it  has  seemed  to  you  and  to  the  world, 
all  the  omnipotence  of  the  Eternal  has  been  behind 
you,  and  all  the  glory  of  the  Father  has  been  shining 
upon  you.  Simple  faith  would  lift  you  higher  than 
you  have  ever  been.  Trust  God.  Righteousness 
and  love  are  behind  all,  after  all,  and  best  of  all. 
When  the  scales  fall  away,  oh,  the  expansion  of 
revelation!  This  is  life  eternal. 

I  remember  once  speaking  to  a  friend  of  mine1 
in  Brighton  who,  giving  me  his  experience  of  his 
own  childhood,  said,  u  I  can  remember  when  my 
mother  cried  as  she  cut  the  bread  for  our  breakfast, 
keeping  none  back  for  herself,  for  it  was  the  last 
crust  that  she  was  dividing.  I,  the  eldest  born, 
inquired  the  reason  why  this  was  done.  It  has 
kept  me  straight  in  the  world  ever  since  under 
terrible  temptation.  She  said,  *  My  lad,  your  father 
has  been  dismissed  from  his  situation  because  he 
would  not  lie,  and  we  have  come  to  the  last  loaf, 
but  I  am  proud  of  your  father,  and  you  must  grow 
up  like  him  too.' "  "  And,"  said  my  friend,  for  he 
is  a  friend  in  a  very  humble  position,  "  I  have  tried 
to  do  it.  The  example  of  that  great  sacrifice  is 
before  me,  that  solemn  and  sad  morning  when  it 
seemed  as  if  we  had  come  to  the  last,  and  God 
let  us  go  through  and  remained  silent.  But  it 
was  not  the  last.  Somehow  I  felt  that  morning 

1  This  man  is  also  referred  to  on  p.  1 97. 
K 


146       ETERNAL  PUNISHMENT  AND 

as  if  I  stood  higher,  I  was  so  proud  of  my  father's 
manhood,  and  to-day  as  I  look  back  and  remember 
that  we  did  come  through  many  a  hardship,  it 
is  true,  but  we  have  come  through.  I  would  not 
barter  our  faith,  our  quietness  of  heart,  the  mutual 
love  and  respect  of  our  home  circle  for  all  that  the 
world  could  give,  if  we  had  to  leave  those  things 
outside." 

What  shall  I  call  that  ?  This  is  true  life,  is  it  not  ? 
When  we  get  to  heaven  we  do  not  expect  to  find 
another  sort,  we  expect  to  find  that.  That  kind 
of  manhood  in  upon  the  throne  of  the  universe. 
It  went  there  by  the  Cross  of  Calvary.  This  is 
life  indeed,  and  this  is  life  eternal. 

I  can  imagine  someone  asking  me,  "  How  am  I  to 
get  into  this  eternal  life,  for  it  seems  as  if  sin  closes 
me  round  and  the  world  is  too  much  for  me,  tempta- 
tion too  strong,  and  I  cannot  escape.  You  threaten, 
but  you  cannot  save."  You  remind  me  of  some 
people  I  have  heard  about.  One  of  them  came 
and  kneeled  down  in  the  streets  one  day  to  one 
whom  he  took  to  be  a  Galilean  peasant  whose 
vision  he  felt  was  greater  than  his  own,  and  this 
is  what  he  said,  "Good  Master,  what  shall  I  do 
that  I  may  inherit  eternal  life  ? "  The  man  saw 
something  better  than  he  had  ever  seen  before. 
"  Lord,  to  whom  shall  we  go  ? "  said  a  poor 
fisherman,  "Thou  hast  the  words  of  eternal  life." 
So  we  will  go  with  the  young  ruler  and  with 
Peter  the  fisherman  and  we  will  kneel  down  at  the 


ETERNAL  LIFE  147 

same  feet  and  we  will  remember  that  that  life,  that 
noble  life  of  Christ,  that  stainless  life  can  never  die. 
He  is  not  only  living  now,  He  is  living  in  your  very 
midst  if  you  only  knew  it.  His  is  the  true  life,  the 
ageless  life,  the  deathless  life,  eternal  life.  "  I  am 
come  that  they  might  have  life  and  that  they  might 
have  it  more  abundantly." 

"  O  !  how  shall  I  whose  native  sphere 

Is  dark,  whose  mind  is  dim, 
Before  the  Ineffable  appear, 
And  on  my  naked  spirit  bear 

The  uncreated  beam  ? 

"  There  is  a  way  for  man  to  rise 

To  that  sublime  abode : — 
An  offering  and  a  sacrifice, 
A  Holy  Spirit's  energies, 
An  Advocate  with  God  : — 

"  These,  these  prepare  us  for  the  sight 

Of  Holiness  above ; 
The  sons  of  ignorance  and  night 
May  dwell  in  the  Eternal  Light 

Through  the  Eternal  Love  !  " 


THE  LAW  OF  RETRIBUTION 


See  Preface  to  preceding  sermon. 


IX 

"  If  thy  hand  cause  thee  to  offend,  cut  it  off;  it  is  better  for  thee  to 
enter  into  life  maimed,  than  having  two  hands  to  go  into  hell,  into  the 
fire  that  never  shall  be  quenched:  Where  their  worm  dieth  not,  and  the 
fire  is  not  quenched." — ST  MARK  ix.  43,  44. 

SOME  time  ago,  when  preaching  from  the  parable  of 
the  Last  Judgment,  and  with  special  reference  to 
the  text,  "These  shall  go  away  into  everlasting 
punishment,  but  the  righteous  into  life  eternal," 
I  made  certain  statements  which  I  have  been  asked 
to  repeat,  or  at  any  rate  to  restate  in  simpler  form. 
This  I  willingly  do,  for  the  truth  then  declared  is 
one  which,  of  all  others,  needs  clear  and  unhesitat- 
ing statement  in  an  age  like  the  present. 

You  remember  that  I  told  you  on  that  occasion 
that  the  word  "  everlasting "  is  the  word  which 
in  the  same  sentence  is  translated  "  eternal."  They 
ought  not  to  be  two  words,  for  they  are  only 
one.  Neither  is  "  everlasting  "  the  best  translation 
of  the  term.  It  should  be  "  eternal "  in  both  cases. 
The  word  eternal  signifies  a  something  which  is 
not  explained  by  the  English  word  everlasting.  It 
is  not  something  which  begins  after  death,  but 
that  which  we  are  living  now.  This  is  eternity 
Eternity  is  that  which  is,  as  opposed  to  that  which 
seems.  Eternal  life,  to  quote  the  words  of  our 

15* 


152        THE  LAW  OF  RETRIBUTION 

Lord  Himself,  is  to  know  God.  Eternal  punishment 
therefore,  if  we  are  to  use  the  word  punishment  at 
all,  is  the  opposite  of  this.  It  is  the  result  of  the 
deliberate  putting  away  from  ourselves  of  the  life 
that  ought  to  be  lived  with  God.  If  there  be  a 
man  here  seeking  God,  and  who  yet  feels  he  has 
not  found  Him,  he  whose  search  is  sincere,  humble, 
and  true,  that  man  has  found  Him.  "  Thou  wouldst 
not  seek  Me  if  thou  hadst  not  already  found  Me." 
But  if  there  be  a  man  here  who  once  stood  near  to 
God  and  felt  the  joy  of  serving  Him,  whose  life, 
though  narrow  in  range,  was  wide  in  opportunity 
and  grand  in  experience,  and  has  forfeited  all  this 
by  the  deliberate  choice  of  what  was  mean  and  base 
and  selfish  and  worldly,  that  man  is  undergoing 
eternal  punishment  now,  for  he  has  chosen  the 
seeming  in  opposition  to  the  real,  he  has  deliberately 
thrust  from  him  that  life  which  in  heaven  he  would 
have  enjoyed  in  greater  fulness,  but  not  in  different 
kind  from  the  life  which  he  might  live  now,  the  life 
of  God. 

Life  eternal  is  to  know  God.  That  man  has 
invoked  his  own  punishment  who  from  his  life 
has  thrust  God  away.  As  this  does  not  seem  to  have 
been  perfectly  understood  last  time  I  taught  it,  I 
take  another  of  our  Lord's  solemn  sayings  on  the 
same  subject  as  my  text  to-night.  It  is  even  more 
solemn  than  the  parable  which  is  usually  described 
as  the  parable  of  the  Last  Judgment.  The  words 
in  the  ninth  of  St  Mark  are  terrible.  Take  them 


THE  LAW  OF  RETRIBUTION        153 

literally,  take  them  symbolically,  take  them  as  you 
will,  they  are  full  of  solemn  warning,  even  of  some- 
thing more  than  warning,  of  menace  against  the  man 
who  chooses  a  way  of  his  own.  There  has  been 
much  unintelligent  comment  upon  this  chapter,  and 
especially  upon  this  portion  of  it.  It  can  hardly  be 
necessary  to  say  that  Jesus  was  actually  quoting  in 
the  use  of  these  words.  You  will  find  the 
original,  or  part  of  them  at  any  rate,  in  the  last 
verse  of  the  sixty-sixth  chapter  of  Isaiah.  Our 
Lord  knew  the  Old  Testament,  whatever  we  do. 
Here  is  the  prophet's  description  of  the  chastise- 
ments overtaking  the  evil-doers  of  his  day,  a  puri- 
fication stern  in  its  method,  beneficent  in  its  effect. 
"It  shall  come  to  pass,  that  from  one  new  moon  to 
another,  and  from  one  Sabbath  to  another,  shall  all 
flesh  come  to  worship  before  Me,  saith  the  Lord. 
And  they  shall  go  forth,  and  look  upon  the  carcases 
of  the  men  that  have  transgressed  against  Me :  for 
their  worm  shall  not  die,  neither  shall  their  fire  be 
quenched ;  and  they  shall  be  an  abhorring  unto  all 
flesh."  The  simple  men  whom  our  Lord  addressed 
knew  where  that  figure  of  the  undying  worm  came 
from  and  the  unquenchable  fire,  and  they  were 
standing  near  to  the  historic  spot  thus  described  in 
the  words  of  the  prophet,  where  criminals  were 
done  to  death,  where  Israel  had  been  purified  by 
the  edge  of  the  sword,  where  worms  were  busy 
upon  the  putrefying  corpses,  where  the  fire  was  lit 
to  carry  the  stench  away.  Our  Lord  made  instant 


154        THE  LAW  OF  RETRIBUTION 

use  of  the  figure  thus  supplied,  and  Himself  applied 
it  to  the  moral  life,  the  life  that  we  have  to  live 
now,  and  He  said  not  one  word  about  the  life 
beyond  the  grave.  Speaking,  not  of  death,  but  of 
life,  He  means,  "Let  nothing  stand  between  you 
and  right,  no  suffering,  no  sacrifice,  for  destruction 
waits  upon  every  form  of  wrong,  and  pain  follows 
upon  every  act  of  sin." 

Now,  to  relate  this  text  to  the  common  belief 
and  experience,  perhaps  the  best  way  in  which  to 
put  this  relation  will  be  to  restate  in  your  hearing 
that  which  you  already  know  perfectly,  the  creed 
of  popular  theology  concerning  the  great  facts  of 
life  and  sin  and  redemption  with  which  we  are  all 
familiar.  It  may  be  put  thus — I  mean  the  theology 
that  is  just  passing  away,  sometimes  miscalled  the 
old  theology,  but  in  reality  a  very  new  theology,  it 
is  only  of  yesterday,  and  like  yesterday  it  is  dead 
or  dying — We  are  all  sinners  and  deserve  to  go  to 
hell.  The  hell  that  is  meant  is  usually  a  place 
of  torment,  torment  unending  on  the  other  side  of 
death,  a  hell  which  you  will  never  see  until  the 
angel  of  death  summons  you.  We  are  all  sinners, 
says  this  popular  creed,  but  God  has  provided  a 
victim  to  endure  an  equivalent  of  what  we  have 
deserved  Jesus  died  upon  the  Cross,  therefore  we 
need  not  suffer.  He  died  in  time,  the  agony  was 
only  for  a  few  hours,  but  that  which  He  did  effect 
was  a  deliverance  which  will  only  begin  when  we 
touch  eternity,  deliverance  from  the  consequences 


THE  LAW  OF  RETRIBUTION        155 

of  sin;  though  we  may  feel,  as  a  corollary  to  this 
belief,  that  forgiveness  is  ours  now,  we  may  thank 
God  and  receive  it. 

It  is  true  that  this  doctrine  has  been  held  with 
qualifications.  I  leave  out  any  reference,  for  in- 
stance, to  the  doctrine  of  election,  by  which  some 
are  supposed  to  have  been  predestined  to  ever- 
lasting bliss,  taking  effect  at  the  same  moment,  on 
the  other  side  of  death,  and  some  to  eternal  woe, 
eternal  meaning  everlasting.  We  omit  also  re- 
ference to  Antinomianism,  by  which  it  was  held 
that  those  who  were  of  Christ,  those  who  had 
availed  themselves  of  this  mighty  work  of  His  need 
not  trouble  about  righteousness  of  life.  All  their 
guilt  had  been  transferred  to  Him,  not  only  the 
past  and  the  present,  but  the  future  too,  and  they 
need  not  trouble  themselves  about  living  any  too 
well. 

But  the  popular  qualifications  are  these — First, 
the  impenitent  are  not  held  to  be  included.  Prac- 
tically Christ  did  not  die  for  all  the  world ;  He  only 
died  for  those  who  lay  hold  upon  His  atonement, 
the  rest  are  left  out  of  account.  Secondly,  even 
the  penitent,  however,  must  put  on  holiness,  or  he 
may  forfeit  that  which  Christ  has  effected  for  him. 
There  was  a  great  deal  of  truth  lying  beneath  all 
this  I  have  stated  thus  crudely  because  it  is  held 
crudely.  I  am  not  here  to  sneer  at  it,  because  down 
at  the  bottom  of  this  statement  of  truth  there  was 
something  which  we  must  never  let  go,  for  if  we 


156        THE  LAW  OF  RETRIBUTION 

do,  we  do  it  at  our  peril.  But  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
men  have  ceased  or  are  ceasing  to  believe  it.  I 
question  if  more  than  a  few  in  this  great  congre- 
gation believe  it  just  as  I  have  stated  it.  The  pulpit 
is  becoming  increasingly  silent  about  it.  It  is  only 
here  and  there  that  you  will  hear  a  preacher  insist 
upon  it  in  all  its  vividness — I  was  going  to  say  its 
rawness.  Instead  of  that  preachers  will  as  a  rule 
vaguely  imply  that  there  is  something  or  other,  un- 
comfortable, unwelcome,  but  well  deserved,  awaiting 
you  upon  the  other  side  of  death  if  you  do  not  be- 
lieve and  lay  hold  here  upon  the  facts  I  have  men- 
tioned concerning  the  redeeming  work  of  Christ. 
But,  however  vaguely  they  may  state  it,  I  say  men 
are  not  greatly  interested  in  it.  If  I  were  to  preach 
it  to-night  with  all  the  emphasis  I  know,  you  would 
feel  that  I  was  striking  a  false  note.  Some  of  you 
would  never  come  here  again,  for  you  would  feel 
that  the  prophet  had  no  message,  in  fact  he  was  no 
prophet  at  all ;  he  was  stating  what  your  conscience 
and  your  better  self  repudiated. 

Do  not  be  in  too  great  a  hurry,  however,  I  will 
show  you  what  it  is  you  really  repudiate.  We  have 
come  to  think  three  things  about  this  form  of 
doctrine. 

First,  that  it  is  immoral  to  punish  anyone  else 
for  my  sin,  for  your  sin.  Listen  to  the  word  punish. 
It  is  immoral  to  punish  anyone  else  for  your  sin  or 
for  mine.  Moreover,  it  is  impossible.  No  one  has 
ever  been  punished  for  anybody  else's  sin ;  only  the 


THE  LAW  OF  RETRIBUTION        157 

sinner  can  be  punished.  Though  at  the  same  time 
we  all  admit  the  grand  counter-principle  running 
through  all  life  ;  it  is  that  vicarious  suffering, 
voluntarily  borne,  is  grand  and  noble  and  divine. 
Many  a  person  has  stood  in  the  way  of  another's 
punishment  and  taken  it  himself,  but  when  it  fell 
upon  him  it  was  no  punishment ;  it  was  something 
else,  it  was  glorious.  That  principle  it  is  the 
highest  exemplification  of  which — no,  the  root  and 
inspiration  of  it — we  discern  at  Calvary.  Vicarious 
punishment  and  vicarious  suffering  are  as  wide  as 
the  poles  apart. 

Secondly,  we  do  not,  we  cannot  get  rid  of  the 
consequences  of  our  sin  by  the  merits  of  anyone 
else.  So  much  of  repentance  in  these  days  and  all 
days  is  repentance  of  merely  what  follows  the  sin, 
and  not  of  the  sin  itself.  We  are  punished,  ex- 
perience tells  us  so,  and  we  do  not  have  to  wait  for 
death.  Sometimes  we  try  to  cheat  ourselves  that  it 
is  not  so,  but  it  is  with  a  misgiving  at  the  bottom  of 
our  heart  all  the  time.  We  know  that  no  act  of 
faith,  however  definite  and  however  strong,  saves 
us  from  bearing  the  penal  consequences  of  our 
wrong-doing.  In  the  church  to-night,  it  may  be, 
there  sits  a  man  who  contracted  a  bad  habit  in  his 
youth.  He  could  have  stopped  it  then;  he  acted 
in  defiance  of  good  counsel,  of  fatherly  love  and 
motherly  devotion.  He  braved  their  prayers,  he 
mocked  their  faith.  Now,  if  that  man  had  to  go 
back  and  begin  again,  what  do  you  think  he  would 


158        THE  LAW  OF  RETRIBUTION 

do  with  his  life  ?  Let  the  devil  at  his  elbow  tell  you. 
He  has  put  himself  in  the  hands  of  a  something 
which  is  now  stronger  than  he.  It  has  laid  its 
clammy,  iron  grip  upon  his  moral  nature.  He  is  a 
slave  and  a  sufferer,  and  he  knows  it.  Let  any 
preacher  mock  that  man  by  saying,  "  Come,  my  friend, 
come  to  the  Cross,  confess  your  sin,  there  is  no  hell 
for  you,"  he  would  say,  "  Liar!  I  am  in  hell  now." 

Thirdly,  it  is  impossible  to  believe — I  am  stating 
what  you  feel,  remember — that  any  sin  can  deserve 
punishment  from  everlasting  to  everlasting.  Re- 
reading John  Henry  Newman's  Apologia  Pro  Vita 
Sua  a  few  days  ago  I  came  across  a  sentence  I  had 
never  noticed  before.  It  was  something  to  this 
effect — It  were  better  for  a  soul  to  endure  extremest 
torment  through  endless  ages  rather  than  commit 
one  venial  sin.  This  John  Henry  Newman  declared 
to  be  the  belief  of  the  Catholic  Church.  I  am  not 
quite  so  sure  that  it  is.  If  it  were,  I  feel  sure  your 
conscience  and  mine  would  be  compelled  to  re- 
pudiate it ;  it  puts  dishonour  upon  God.  The 
reason  why  so  many  of  the  pulpit  appeals  fail 
nowadays  is  because  men  have  come,  they  hardly 
know  how,  to  protest  in  the  name  of  some  higher 
law  against  these  implications  of  the  older  doctrine. 
We  do  not  believe  these  things,  we  cannot  believe 
them.  The  man  in  the  street  will  not  be  won  by 
them.  No  man,  I  verily  believe,  is  ever  terrified 
by  this  kind  of  language  about  retribution  into 
choosing  the  Kingdom  of  God. 


THE  LAW  OF  RETRIBUTION        159 

Let  me  repeat  these  three  things  which,  though 
we  repudiate  them,  contain  a  truth,  a  truth  I  am 
going  to  set  forth  again.  First,  you  feel  that  it  is 
immoral  that  anybody  should  be  asked  to  bear  your 
punishment.  If  you  are  a  true  man,  and  your  re- 
pentance is  genuine,  you  never  ask  anyone  to  take 
your  place  and  take  your  stripes.  Secondly,  we 
know  we  do  not  get  rid  of  the  consequences  by 
swallowing  this  belief  or  that  about  the  forgiveness 
of  sin.  The  consequences  are  here,  and  in  some 
cases  at  any  rate,  we  watch  them  working  out  with 
all  the  inexorableness  of  fate.  Thirdly,  we  do  not 
believe,  however  stern  the  consequences  of  wrong- 
doing may  be,  that  they  ought  to  continue  from 
everlasting  to  everlasting.  All  retribution  misses 
its  meaning  here  and  God  is  dethroned,  for  I  can 
never  see  any  meaning  in  retribution  for  any  purpose 
except  it  be  in  the  interests  of  the  sinner.  If  it 
fall  upon  him  in  sharpness  it  is  not  for  the  sake 
of  vengeance  but  for  the  sake  of  something  higher 
and  nobler. 

Now,  brethren,  observe  the  serious  result  of  this 
way  of  thinking  of  ours.  It  has  weakened  moral 
appeal.  Good  old  Christians  listening  to  me  to- 
night are  trembling  for  what  I  will  say  next,  for 
fear  one  should  condone  wrong-doing  or  make  any 
man  or  woman  in  this  place  to-night  feel  that  it 
matters  little  whether  they  do  right  or  wrong  if 
somehow  and  inevitably  things  will  come  agreeable 
at  the  end;  it  has  weakened  the  moral  appeal; 


160        THE  LAW  OF  RETRIBUTION 

men  feel,  or  some  men  feel,  that  they  can  afford 
to  trifle  with  the  moral  law.  You  cannot.  Listen 
again  to  the  words  of  Jesus,  "It  were  better  to 
enter  into  life  maimed  than  having  two  hands  to 
go  into  the  moral  Gehenna,  into  the  fire  that  shall 
never  be  quenched,  where  their  worm  dieth  not, 
and  the  fire  is  not  quenched."  There  is  no  sug- 
gestion there  of  the  inevitableness  of  escape  from 
what  sin  deserves,  there  is  no  thought  of  how  little 
it  matters  to  do  that  which  is  wrong  and  to  live 
the  life  which  is  base.  Nay,  right  is  right,  and 
wrong  is  wrong,  and  each  meets  with  its  due  sequence 
of  reward.  I  want  you  to  listen  to  two  things  here. 
First,  death  is  not  of  much  importance.  The 
common  soldier  is  no  theologian,  the  life-boatman 
perhaps  could  state  no  article  of  doctrine  with 
clearness  and  fulness,  neither  are  they  particularly 
anxious  to  count  what  follows  death,  and  see  with 
clearness  what  awaits  them,  but  these  men  at  the 
call  of  duty,  of  high  service,  of  right-doing,  will 
lay  down  their  life.  In  our  best  moments  we  are 
all  the  same.  Death  does  not  frighten  us  if  we 
meet  it  breast  forward  and  along  the  line  of  high 
duty.  It  is  not  of  much  importance,  and  it  cancels 
no  debt,  it  only  means  a  new  focus,  and  not  a 
new  man.  Observe  that  our  Lord  does  not  dwell 
upon  it  in  His  teaching.  You  have  no  warrant  in 
the  words  of  Jesus  for  supposing  that  death  marks 
an  epoch  either  of  reward  or  retribution.  It  is  life 
with  which  He  was  concerned,  life  with  which  we 


THE  LAW  OF  RETRIBUTION        161 

are  all  concerned,  too,  living  truly  or  falsely,  rightly 
or  wrongly,  nobly  or  basely,  and  God  has  written 
His  law  in  men's  hearts  so  that  they  know  it  matters 
much  to  choose  the  highest  and  quit  the  lowest, 
to  live  nobly  rather  than  ignobly,  to  seek  duty 
rather  than  pleasure,  the  good  rather  than  the 
great.  Jesus  put  this  into  all  His  teaching — the 
reward  and  the  retribution  begin  now. 

I  brought  into  the  pulpit  a  copy  of  "  Jane  Eyre," 
which  probably  everyone  in  the  congregation  has 
read.  I  draw  your  attention  to  the  creed  of 
Charlotte  Bronte  as  it  appears  in  one  of  the  early 
pages  of  this  book: — 

"  Life  appears  to  me  too  short  to  be  spent  in  nursing  animosity 
or  registering  wrongs.  We  are,  and  must  be  one  and  all,  burdened 
with  faults  in  this  world :  but  the  time  will  soon  come  when,  I 
trust,  we  shall  put  them  off  in  putting  off  our  corruptible  bodies ; 
when  debasement  and  sin  will  fall  from  us  with  this  cumbrous 
frame  of  flesh,  and  only  the  spark  of  the  spirit  will  remain — the 
impalpable  principle  of  life  and  thought,  pure  as  when  it  left  the 
Creator  to  inspire  the  creature.  .  .  .  Surely  it  will  never,  on  the 
contrary,  be  suffered  to  degenerate  from  man  to  fiend  ?  No ;  I 
cannot  believe  that.  I  hold  another  creed  ...  it  makes  Eternity 
a  rest — a  mighty  home,  not  a  terror  and  an  abyss." 

Now,  brethren,  while  I  believe  that  is  God's 
purpose  for  mankind,  I  believe  it  is  not  quite  as 
stated  here. 

"  As  the  tree  falls,  so  must  it  lie  ; 
As  a  man  lives,  so  shall  he  die." 

Death  is  only  a  turning  in  the  road.     It  is  not  a 
fresh  beginning,  it  is  only  a  new  morning,  and  when 

L 


1 62        THE  LAW  OF  RETRIBUTION 

you  import  death,  as  you  do,  into  your  theology, 
you  forget  that  your  Master  seldom  or  never  did. 

"  I  sent  my  Soul  through  the  Invisible, 

Some  letter  of  that  After-life  to  spell : 
And  by  and  by  my  soul  return'd  to  me, 

And  answer'd  *  I  Myself  am  Heaven  and  Hell.'  " 

The  second  thing  I  want  you  to  remember  is 
this — every  thought  reacts  upon  the  thinker,  every 
deed  upon  the  doer.  The  penalty  of  every  sin 
is  contained  in  the  sin  itself.  That  penalty  begins 
to  work  out  from  the  moment  the  sin  was  conceived. 
The  harvest  may  be  long  in  coming,  but  it  all  comes, 
here  or  hereafter,  in  this  life  or  in  the  life  beyond, 
or  both.  This  is  more  terrible  than  the  doctrine 
we  have  been  discussing  to-night,  because  it  is 
absolutely  and  inevitably  true.  "  God  is  not 
mocked.  Whatsoever  a  man  seweth  that  shall  he 
also  reap."  Every  stone  flung  upward  from  a 
human  hand  will  come  down  with  precisely  the 
same  force  with  which  it  was  hurled. 

"  The  tissues  of  the  life  to  be 

We  weave  with  colours  all  our  own, 
And  in  the  field  of  destiny 
We  reap  as  we  have  sown." 

Every  lie  rebounds  upon  him  who  speaks  it.  The 
man  who  robs  a  brother  finds  a  brother  avenged. 
It  is  the  living  God  Who  is  the  avenger.  The 
same  act  may  be  one  of  self-mutilation  or  it  may  be 
the  retribution  of  the  Most  High.  You  ruin  a 
woman.  It  may  be  that  upon  this  side  of  death, 


THE  LAW  OF  RETRIBUTION        163 

let  alone  upon  the  other,  the  worm  that  dieth  not, 
in  the  gnawings  of  remorse,  will  bring  home  to 
you  the  foolishness,  the  utter  madness  of  the 
sin. 

It  is  possible  that  I  have  stated  this  truth  so 
strongly  as  to  cause  in  some  a  certain  shrinking 
of  heart,  in  others  a  certain  feeling  of  protest. 
Somebody  will  be  saying  to  himself  "  Alas !  for 
the  sinner.  Is  God  a  mere  machine  ?  Is  it  all 
inexorable  justice?  Is  there  no  hope  in  Christ? 
Men  and  brethren,  what  shall  we  do  ? "  Come 
back  and  think  of  the  old  gospel,  the  same  gospel 
that  was  preached  by  the  apostle.  We  take  our 
stand  now  by  the  side  of  those  who  heard  Jesus 
utter  the  words  of  our  text.  Repent — the  old,  old 
method,  the  old,  old  way.  Repent,  not  of  the 
consequences,  but  of  the  sin.  Fear  only  to  sink 
in  weakness  and  shame. 

There  are  men  listening  to  me  to-night  who 
can  find  no  way  out  of  a  moral  entanglement 
in  which  they  have  involved  themselves,  and 
they  have  little  hope.  Suppose  I  speak  to  a 
young  lad  thus — You  have  been  tempted  this 
week  in  the  shaping  of  your  career  to  take  ad- 
vantage of  someone  else.  You  have  been  tempted 
to  stain  your  soul  with  a  lie.  You  have  been 
tempted  to  thrust  down  another  that  you  might 
claim  what  the  world  calls  success.  You  have  been 
tempted  to  turn  your  back  upon  your  father's 
principles,  tempted  to  do  something  foul  and  base 


1 64        THE  LAW  OF  RETRIBUTION 

and  wrong,  in  the  hope  of  a  profit  that  is  to  come 
by  and  by.  You  defend  yourself  thus — "  If  I  do 
not,  the  gate  will  not  open;  if  I  do  not,  life  will 
press  hardly  upon  me.  I  feel  myself  full  of 
ambition,  full  of  the  stirrings  of  a  new-found  power. 
I  want  a  chance  to  live.  I  can  atone  for  all  this  by 
and  by.  Only  a  little  sin  at  the  outset  of  life,  and 
afterwards,  oh !  what  there  might  be  in  fulness  and 
richness  and  gladness.  I  might  be  a  power  for 
good."  Cut  it  off!  It  means  death.  Out  with 
it !  Do  not  dally  for  an  instant  with  excuses. 
Have  done  with  it !  I  will  tell  you  of  someone  who 
went  through  this  temptation  before  you.  His 
name  was  Jesus,  and  He  was  the  author  of  the 
words  of  our  text.  He  faced  it  in  the  wilderness. 
The  bending  of  the  knee  to  Satan,  and  to-morrow 
the  throne  of  the  Caesars,  oh !  the  power  for  good 
that  that  might  mean  !  And  the  answer  was,  "  Get 
thee  hence ! "  A  small  life  rather  than  a  great,  if 
it  must  be,  the  cross  rather  than  the  throne!  "It 
is  better  to  enter  into  life  maimed  than  having  two 
hands  to  go  into  the  Gehenna  of  fire."  The  Jesus 
Who  went  through  the  conflict  chose  the  self- 
mutilation  and  the  lonely  life  and  the  crown  of 
thorns  and  the  betrayal  and  the  agony  and  the 
shame  and  the  death  because  He  knew  it  was  not 
death.  Enter  into  life  maimed,  for  it  is  life  eternal 
now.  It  is  choosing  God  and  knowing  God.  And, 
my  young  brother,  the  day  will  come  when  you 
would  give  all  you  possess  to  have  the  chance  again. 


THE  LAW  OF  RETRIBUTION        165 

No  sin  was  ever  sinned  yet  that  was  worth  while. 
The  evil  comes  home  to  roost,  and,  however  long  it 
takes  for  the  effect  to  work  out,  it  comes,  it  comes 
on,  and  it  has  not  done  coming  when  death  comes, 
perhaps  it  is  only  beginning.  The  man  who  chooses 
the  lower  level  instead  of  the  higher  finds  out  his 
blunder,  and,  oh,  what  a  sad  and  terrible  disenchant- 
ment. Do  you  not  feel  that  this  is  eternally  true? 

There  was  a  powerful  book  published  some  time 
ago,  "The  Silence  of  Dean  Maitland."  It  was  a 
parable  of  the  life  of  every  man  who  deliberately 
chooses  the  way  of  the  sinner.  It  began  in  little 
things,  little  things  for  which  excuse  was  made. 
Then  it  led  to  greater  things,  then  to  a  life  lie,  a 
lie  that  was  told  by  silence.  All  through  that  man's 
life  of  outwardly  glorious  success  the  worm  was 
gnawing  at  his  heart.  There  was  no  panacea  for 
remorse.  The  fire  was  not  quenched.  And  at  last 
the  hand  had  to  come  off  and  the  eye  to  come  out, 
and  public  confession  was  made  and  justice  was 
vindicated  and  right  was  done.  It  is  not  only  in  the 
case  of  Dean  Maitland  appearing  on  the  pages  of 
fiction  that  this  is  so.  It  is  always  so.  There  is 
no  escape  from  it.  Either  at  the  beginning  or  at 
the  end  the  sacrifice  has  to  be  made.  The  cheaper 
and  the  better,  as  well  as  the  nobler,  is  in  the 
wilderness,  facing  the  adversary  at  the  beginning  of 
the  life  work.  Repentance  is  cutting  off  that  you 
may  enter  in.  It  is  life  eternal  here  and  now. 

I  also  brought  into  the  pulpit  another  book  from 


1 66        THE  LAW  OF  RETRIBUTION 

which  I  intended  to  quote  to  you  to-night,  Ruskin's 
;' Crown  of  Wild  Olive."  It  seems  strange  to  me 
that  this  generation  is  already,  as  it  were,  beginning 
to  forget  one  of  the  greatest  prophets  God  ever 
gave  to  them,  John  Ruskin.  I  am  about  to  quote 
from  his  essay  on  War,  which  was  delivered  as  an 
address  to  the  students  of  a  military  college. 

"  In  general,  I  have  no  patience  with  people  who  talk  of  '  the 
thoughtlessness  of  youth '  indulgently.  I  had  infinitely  rather 
hear  of  thoughtless  old  age,  and  the  indulgence  due  to  that. 
When  a  man  has  done  his  work,  and  nothing  can  any  way  be 
materially  altered  in  his  fate,  let  him  forget  his  toil,  and  jest  with 
his  fate,  if  he  will ;  but  what  excuse  can  you  find  for  wilfulness  of 
thought,  at  the  very  time  when  every  crisis  of  future  fortune  hangs 
on  your  decisions  ?  A  youth  thoughtless  !  when  all  the  happiness 
of  his  home  for  ever  depends  on  the  chances,  or  the  passions,  of  an 
hour  !  A  youth  thoughtless  !  when  the  career  of  all  his  days 
depends  on  the  opportunity  of  a  moment !  A  youth  thoughtless  ! 
when  his  every  act  is  as  a  torch  to  the  laid  train  of  future  conduct, 
and  every  imagination  a  fountain  of  life  or  death  !  Be  thoughtless 
in  any  after  years,  rather  than  now — though,  indeed,  there  is  only 
one  place  where  a  man  may  be  nobly  thoughtless — his  death-bed. 
No  thinking  should  ever  be  left  to  be  done  there." 

This  is  true  teaching!  These  are  the  words  of 
eternal  life,  they  are  the  echo  of  the  teaching  of 
Him  who  uttered  the  text  we  have  had  in  our 
minds  and  before  our  eyes  this  night. 

This  is  the  spirit  of  Jesus  that  speaks.  Repent- 
ance— repentance  brings  every  man  back  to  the 
feet  of  the  Christ  whether  he  knows  it  or  not. 
You  never  yet  were  sorry  for  sin,  but  you  were 


THE  LAW  OF  RETRIBUTION        167 

standing  in  the  presence  of  the  Crucified.  You 
never  turned  your  back  upon  a  wrong  but  what 
you  had  something  to  do  with  the  Christ.  How 
much  can  Christ  do  for  you?  Everything!  You 
leave  the  future  to  Him.  If  any  man  here  has 
been  thinking  wrong  and  thinking  lightly  about  it 
and  thrusting  from  him  the  thought  of  to-morrow  or 
that  far  off,  shadowy  future,  where  his  evil  may 
be  buried  in  oblivion  for  ever,  let  him  make  no  mis- 
take about  it.  Halt  just  where  you  are  and  turn 
back  upon  that  road  and  go  back  to  the  height 
from  which  you  have  come  down.  The  only  place 
of  safety  is  here.  The  further  on,  the  deeper 
doom. 

It  may  cost  something.  What  does  that  matter  ? 
There  is  only  one  thing  you  have  to  think  about  at 
this  time,  that  is,  get  rid  of  everything  that  is  base 
and  unholy  and  impure  !  Down  with  it !  Let  the 
Christ  be  glorified  in  your  life.  For  already  the 
hand  of  that  same  Christ  is  at  work  here,  and  all 
that  needs  to  be  done  to  rescue  you  from  the  grip 
of  the  adversary  He  will  do.  He  can  remit  all  the 
consequences  of  evil  if  He  pleases.  He  hath  suffered 
for  the  sin  of  the  world.  But  you  must  not  make 
terms  with  Him.  What  you  must  do  is  to  cut  off 
the  hand  if  it  be  necessary,  lop  off  the  foot,  pluck 
out  the  eye.  But  be  right  with  God  rather  than 
wrong  with  the  dominion  of  the  whole  world. 
And  if  you  do,  the  day  will  come,  perhaps  it  will 
not  be  so  very  far  distant,  when  you  will  hear 


1 68        THE  LAW  OF  RETRIBUTION 

the  same  Jesus  speak  again,  and  this  is  what  He  will 
say: — 

"Come,  ye  blessed  of  My  Father,  inherit  the 
Kingdom  prepared  for  you  from  the  foundation  of 
the  world." 


THE  HIGHEST  SELF-OFFERING 


THE  following  sermon  was  preached  because  of  a  confession  made 
to  me  of  mistaken  loyalty  on  the  part  of  one  or  two  people, 
resulting  in  what  amounted  to  a  deliberate  breach  of  the  law  of 
God.  It  suddenly  struck  me  that  beneath  those  unhappy  histories 
there  was  something  in  its  essence  good  and  noble,  and  which 
might  be  turned  to  high  account.  The  woman  who  shielded  her 
husband  in  his  continued  practice  of  cheating  someone  else,  and 
the  man  who  was  prepared  to  give  up  church  and  Christ  and 
splendid  usefulness  for  the  sake  of  a  fashionable,  worldly  young 
woman,  whom  he  could  obtain  on  no  other  terms,  were  here 
described.  To  particularise  too  plainly  might  have  caused  offence, 
so  the  lesson  of  the  highest  self-offering  was  pointed  out  through 
other  lives 


X 

"  And  Abraham  stretched  forth  his  hand,  and  took  the  knife  to  slay  his 
son.  And  the  angel  of  the  Lord  called  unto  him  out  of  heaven,  and  said, 
Abraham,  Abraham:  and  he  said,  Here  am  1.  And  he  said,  Lay  not  thy 
hand  upon  the  lad,  neither  do  thou  anything  unto  him :  For  now  I  know 
that  thou  fearest  God,  seeing  thou  hast  not  withheld  thy  son,  thine  only 
son,  from  me." — GENESIS  xxii.  10,  n,  12. 

HERE  is  an  instructive,  and,  rightly  understood,  an 
inspiring  incident,  and  yet  it  is  one  to  which  justice 
has  seldom  been  done.  Much  has  been  spoken  and 
written  concerning  it,  but  the  commentators  have 
often  wandered  sadly  from  the  point.  Even  King 
James's  translators  appear  to  have  misunderstood  or 
only  partially  comprehended  the  significance  of  it. 
The  title  they  give  to  the  chapter  is  "Abraham 
tempted  to  offer  Isaac."  "  He  giveth  proof  of  his 
faith  and  obedience."  Apparently  those  seventeenth 
century  scholars  considered  that  the  chapter  should 
be  thought  of  as  the  trial  of  Abraham's  faith.  I 
would  rather  call  it  the  raising  or  the  purifying  of 
Abraham's  faith.  They  would  almost  give  us  the 
idea  that  God  needed  to  discover  something  about 
Abraham.  The  truth  is,  this  chapter  teaches  us 
that  Abraham  had  to  discover  something  about  God. 
God  did  not  tempt  Abraham  to  any  deed  of  violence. 
Instead  of  that  He  raised  the  faith  of  Abraham  and 


1 72     THE  HIGHEST  SELF-OFFERING 

the  service  and  even  the  character  of  Abraham  to  a 
higher  level  than  they  had  ever  occupied  before. 

Modern  biblical  criticism,  or  some  part  of  it,  has 
gone  to  quite  the  other  extreme.  I  need  hardly  tell 
this  congregation  that  there  are  biblical  scholars  who 
believe  and  teach  that  Abraham  was  a  myth,  that 
this  story  is  a  legend,  that  it  may  have  ethical  value, 
and  so  on,  but  we  must  not  look  upon  it  as  literal 
history.  Well,  frankly,  it  matters  not  to  me  if  it 
were  so,  because  it  is  true  of  some  servant  of  God  in 
every  generation,  and  the  offering  of  Isaac  is  repeated 
and  consummated  perhaps  every  day  in  the  year  in 
this  very  land  of  ours.  But  for  all  that  I  think  it  is 
historically  true,  and  true  just  as  it  stands.  And  I 
think  so  on  the  ground  of  what  we  may  regard  as 
internal  criticism.  Let  us  try  to  put  ourselves 
sympathetically  in  the  place  of  this  man  who  offered 
his  beloved  in  reality  to  God,  whether  he  sacrificed 
him  or  no. 

Abraham  was  little  better  than  an  Arab  sheik, 
brought  up  amidst  surroundings  as  widely  different 
from  yours  or  mine  as  it  is  possible  to  suppose. 
Yet  he  had  the  same  moral  problems  to  meet,  the 
same  decisions  to  give,  the  same  God  to  serve.  He 
was  so  far  different  from  those  in  the  midst  of  whom 
he  lived  that  he  could  not  bring  himself  to  believe 
in  a  god  who  was  worshipped  by  sensuality  and  by 
shame,  but  in  a  God  whose  nature  was  righteous- 
ness. This  it  is  that  marks  Abraham  off  from  his 
times  and  entitles  him  to  our  respect  and  to  the 


THE  HIGHEST  SELF-OFFERING      173 

name  of  the  friend  of  God.  But  he  had  been 
educated,  too,  within  a  circle  of  ideas  the  influence 
of  which  he  could  not  escape,  any  more  than  you 
and  I  can  escape  the  intellectual  environment  of  our 
own  time.  Religion  was  often  a  matter  of  human 
sacrifice,  of  horror,  of  terror  and  of  woe.  Religion 
has  been  made  such  in  many  generations  in  the 
history  of  mankind.  We  have  not  to  travel  very 
far  from  this  spot  to  find  that  in  a  measure  it  is  so 
to-day — a  thing  of  woe  and  darkness  rather  than  of 
joy  and  light. 

Abraham,  however,  having  discovered  his  God 
of  righteousness,  now  proceeds  to  test  himself 
with  regard  to  the  validity  of  all  earthly  affec- 
tion, and  I  can  imagine,  as  he  feels  his  pride, 
his  fatherly  pride  in  his  dear  son,  growing 
day  by  day,  that  the  influence  of  early  training 
would  sometimes  come  over  him.  He  would  feel 
at  the  bottom  of  his  heart  a  certain  misgiving  as 
to  the  purity  and  Tightness  of  this  love.  "  Ought 
I  to  care  so  much  for  my  boy?  Am  I  keeping 
back  from  God  something  that  ought  to  be  His? 
Am  I,  in  fact,  worshipping  another  god  than  the 
God  I  have  found  ?  Is  Isaac  mine  or  His  ?  Would 
it  be  a  sublime  thing,  in  fact,  does  God  want  it — 
that  I  offer  my  boy,  as  my  father  and  my  father's 
father  have  offered  their  boys  to  their  gods  ? " 
Then  the  moment  comes,  the  resolution  is  taken, 
he  sets  out  upon  his  journey,  and  the  lad  who  is 
to  be  his  victim  accompanies  him,  unquestioning, 


174     THE  HIGHEST  SELF-OFFERING 

for  Isaac  had  a  part  in  this  event.  And  still  think- 
ing and  still  troubling  over  the  question,  they  arrive 
at  the  mount  of  sacrifice.  Abraham  binds  him  who 
is  dearer  than  life  itself  to  the  old  man,  lays  him  on 
the  altar,  and  prepares  for  the  last  dread  blow. 
But  he  cannot  deliver  it.  As  he  looks  at  his  victim 
who  has  so  often  lain  in  his  arms  he  lifts  the  knife, 
but  puts  it  down  again.  Can  he  strike?  His  re- 
ligion and  the  ideas  of  worship  in  which  he  was 
trained  tell  him  to  deal  the  blow  and  get  it  over. 
Something  else  cries,  "  Hold !  lay  not  thine  hand 
upon  the  lad."  This  was  a  moral  crisis  and  a 
terrible  crisis,  too,  for  Abraham ;  and  it  is  because 
of  the  vividness  with  which  it  is  pictured  here  that 
I  venture  to  think,  critic  or  no  critic,  it  took  place. 
He  looks  at  his  lad,  he  looks  at  his  knife,  and  then 
the  highest  prevails.  It  was  as  though  an  angel 
spoke  to  him,  for  God  did  speak  in  the  mind 
of  this  heroic,  single-minded  servant,  who  with 
a  very  dim  light  shining  in  his  soul  chose  to  serve 
at  his  best.  He  let  the  knife  fall,  and,  clasping 
his  hands,  lifted  his  face  to  heaven  and  spoke  thus 
— these  words  ought  to  be  put  into  his  mouth 
rather  than  into  the  mouth  of  the  angel — "  My 
God,  I  shall  not  lay  my  hand  upon  the  lad,  Thy 
gift  to  me.  I  shall  not  do  anything  to  him  save 
love  him  as  I  did  before.  For  Thou  knowest  that 
I  fear  Thee.  Were  there  anything  grand  and 
good  for  which  to  give  my  child,  Thou  shouldst 
have  him.  I  would  not  withhold  my  son,  mine 


THE  HIGHEST  SELF-OFFERING      175 

only  son,  from  Thee.  It  is  not  blood  wherewith 
I  serve  Thee,  but  love,  and  if  love  called  for 
blood  it  should  be  given,  but  Thou  hast  not  called 
for  blood  this  day."  Thus  the  voice  of  the  angel 
spoke  in  Abraham's  own  heart. 

Abraham's  highest  self-offering  was  made  when 
he  was  ready  to  give,  if  occasion  demanded,  if 
anything  high  and  noble  and  true  called  for  it, 
the  life  of  his  son,  his  own  life  of  lives.  "  He 
hath  showed  thee,  O  man,  what  is  good,  and 
what  doth  the  Lord  require  of  thee  but  to  deal 
justly  and  to  love  mercy  and  to  walk  humbly  with 
Him?" 

From  this  incident,  in  all  probability,  sprang  the 
higher  religion  which  marks  off  Israel  from  the 
kindred  peoples  from  which  Israel  came.  If 
Abraham  had  not  seen  at  the  altar  that  human 
sacrifice,  as  such,  did  not  please  God,  but  the 
highest  sacrifice  of  all,  which  would  allow  nothing 
to  stand  between  the  soul  and  righteousness, 
there  would  have  been  no  chosen  people.  Israel 
would  never  have  been  born  but  for  Abraham's  per- 
ception of  this  great  spiritual  truth.  And  some- 
thing more  is  shown  to  us  in  this  very  chapter,  which 
I  think  the  commentators  have  missed — "  Jehovah 
Jireh  " — "  The  Lord  will  provide  "  is  the  translation. 
Better  still,  "  The  Lord  will  see."  The  Lord  Who 
searches  the  heart  knows  what  Abraham  would  do  if 
righteousness  needed,  knows  what  he  would  give  if 
love  of  truth  commanded.  There  is  no  barrier  between 


1 76      THE  HIGHEST  SELF-OFFERING 

earthly  love  and  heavenly  love.  "  The  Lord  will  see," 
as  the  Lord  hath  seen.  Here  was  the  highest  self- 
offering  of  which  the  soul  was  capable.  He  was 
offering  that  which  was  dearer  to  him  than  life  itself. 

The  principle  herein  declared,  the  situation  herein 
described,  has  repeated  itself  in  human  history  a 
thousand  times  since  that  far-off  day — a  thousand 
times? — may  be  a  thousand  thousand  times.  It 
teaches  us  this — God  requires  no  meaningless  sacri- 
fice from  any  man.  I  said,  no  meaningless  sacri- 
fice, but  there  are  occasions  in  life  when  earthly 
affection  has  to  be  sacrificed  to  eternal  truth,  when  a 
lower  love  has  to  be  offered  up  in  the  name  of  a 
higher.  Well  is  it  for  him  who  can  discern  the 
occasion  when  it  comes. 

To  illustrate  what  I  am  here  teaching,  let  me  refer 
you  to  two  incidents,  which  I  think  separately  I  have 
mentioned  to  you  before.  One  I  take  from  Professor 
Lecky's  "History  of  European  Morals."  In  his 
account  of  mediaeval  monasticism,  Mr  Lecky  gives  an 
illustration,  told  in  the  monastic  chronicles  them- 
selves, to  this  effect.  A  father,  weary  of  the  world 
and  the  world's  ideals,  one  day  appears  at  the  gate  of 
a  monastery,  leading  by  the  hand  his  little  son.  You 
will  be  wise  enough  and  large-minded  enough  to  say 
along  with  me  that,  in  that  grim  and  barbarous  time, 
a  monastery  represented  the  nearest  approach  to  the 
Christian  ideal  that  was  to  be  found.  This  man 
wanted  to  flee  the  world  and  all  its  tumults,  all  its 
rewards  likewise,  and  chose  instead  the  service  of 


THE  HIGHEST  SELF-OFFERING      177 

God  as  he  saw  it.  He  was  received  at  the  monas- 
tery gate,  but  on  condition  that  he  submitted  himself 
to  every  test  of  his  sincerity.  These  men  were 
grimly  in  earnest,  indeed,  who  lived  within  the 
cloistered  walls.  They  took  his  little  boy  away  from 
him,  clothed  him  in  rags,  beat  and  tortured  him  in 
the  presence  of  the  father,  starved  him  whilst  the 
company  ate — could  the  father  eat,  I  wonder  ?  Day 
after  day  and  week  after  week  went  by,  the  child 
growing  thinner  and  thinner  and  sadder  and  sadder. 
The  father  steeled  his  heart,  believing  that  this  was 
the  service  of  the  living  God.  He  was  saving  his  own 
soul  by  crucifying  his  flesh  and  blood,  by  trampling, 
as  he  was  being  taught,  on  earthly  affection.  The 
hour  came  when  the  supreme  test  was  applied.  The 
abbot  bade  him  take  his  child  in  his  arms,  carry  him 
to  the  river  that  ran  past  the  monastery,  and  fling 
him  in.  The  father  obeyed  without  question.  Poor 
child,  I  wonder  what  he  thought  as  he  lay  in  these 
callous  arms.  But  at  the  moment  when  the  deed 
was  to  be  done  the  abbot's  hand  stayed  the  man,  as 
the  voice  of  the  angel  had  stayed  Abraham.  "  Now 
we  know,"  was  the  verdict,  "your  sincerity.  Now 
we  are  aware  that  nothing  will  stand  between  you 
and  Christ.  Your  soul  is  saved,  come  back,  spare 
your  child." 

Before  I  comment  upon  this  incident,  let  me  place 
another  beside  it ;  then  perhaps  but  little  comment 
will  be  needed.  I  have  here  what  is  to  me  a  very 
precious  book,  an  old  edition  of  Bunyan's  "Pilgrim's 

M 


178     THE  HIGHEST  SELF-OFFERING 

Progress,"  in  which  there  is  a  memoir  of  the  author, 
that  great  preacher  and  saint,  one  of  the  noblest 
vindicators  of  the  form  of  religion  under  which 
you  and  I  worship  to-day.  John  Bunyan  went  to 
prison  for  his  faith,  in  a  day  when  it  meant  much 
to  suffer,  and  he  endured  within  those  prison 
walls  some  things  which  were  harder  than  death. 
He  was  brought  before  his  judges,  and  was  told, 
so  he  tells  it  in  his  own  words,  "  Hear  your  judg- 
ment. You  must  be  taken  back  again  to  the  prison, 
there  to  lie  during  the  king's  pleasure.  If  you 
do  not  submit  to  go  to  Church  and  hear  divine 
service  and  leave  your  preaching,  you  must  be 
banished  this  realm,  and  after  that  if  you  shall  be 
found  in  this  realm  without  special  licence  from  the 
king  you  must  hang  by  the  neck  till  you  are  dead. 
And  so,"  said  Bunyan,  "  he  bade  my  gaoler  have 
me  away."  The  hero  answered  thus — "  I  am  at  a 
point  with  you.  If  I  were  out  of  prison  to-day  I 
would  preach  the  gospel  again  to-morrow  by  the 
help  of  God."  If  the  narrative  stopped  even  there 
it  would  be  inspiring.  We  should  feel  that  was 
a  true  man,  and  a  brave  and  a  humble.  He  made 
no  oration.  His  speech  was  a  good  deal  shorter  than 
his  judges',  but  nothing  more  needed  to  be  said. 
But  now  there  came  the  parting  from  his  wife  and 
children,  and  in  his  own  vivid  phraseology  it  is 
thus  described.  "  Oh,  the  thought  of  the  hardship 
to  my  poor  blind  child.  I  thought  it  would  break 
my  heart  in  pieces.  It  was  as  the  pulling  of  the 


THE  HIGHEST  SELF-OFFERING      179 

flesh  from  my  bones.  I  saw  I  was  as  a  man  who 
was  pulling  down  his  house  upon  the  heads  of  his 
wife  and  children."  I  think  I  can  quote  the  rest 
myself.  Speaking  of  the  poor  blind  child  who  came 
day  by  day  to  the  prison  to  take  away  the  little 
work  by  which  Bunyan  was  able  to  support  them 
all  in  some  degree,  he  said,  "  Poor  child !  how  hard 
it  is  like  to  go  with  thee  in  this  world.  Thou  must 
be  beaten,  must  suffer  hunger,  cold,  and  nakedness, 
and  yet  I  cannot  endure  that  even  the  wind  should 
blow  upon  thee."  Do  we  not  feel,  you  and  I,  that 
in  this  speech  there  was  something  almost  tragical  ? 
Here  was  a  man  to  whom  the  stake  would  have 
meant  nothing,  a  man  who  could  have  faced  torture 
and  shame  and  death  with  equanimity.  He  was 
putting  on  the  altar  that  day  what  was  dearer  to 
him  than  a  thousand  lives.  His  blind  child,  his  wife, 
his  other  dear  ones,  were  offered  to  the  service 
of  the  Most  High  and  for  love  of  Jesus  Christ. 

Now  we  will  take  our  mediaeval  saint  again.  The 
two  incidents  look  very  much  alike.  Are  they? 
They  are  infinitely  apart.  The  one  is  squalid,  the 
other  is  sublime.  The  would-be  saint's  offering  was 
fanaticism  born  of  selfishness.  He  was  saving  his 
soul  at  the  cost  of  his  child.  Bunyan's  was  the 
supremest  form  of  self-sacrifice  of  which  he  was 
capable. 

These  two  men  take  us  back  to  Abraham  and 
that  altar  on  the  top  of  Mount  Moriah.  Abraham 
might  have  been  like  the  mediaeval  saint,  and  he 


i8o     THE  HIGHEST  SELF-OFFERING 

might  have  struck  his  blow,  but  something  higher 
stayed  his  hand,  and  that  something  higher  was  the 
spirit  that  controlled  Bunyan ;  the  prayer  which  is 
here  put  into  the  mouth  of  the  angel,  was  a  sort  of 
hymn  of  praise  to  the  God  Whom  he  had  discovered, 
Who  asks  for  the  highest,  not  the  lowest,  Who  will 
be  content  with  nothing  less.  He  was  prepared  for 
sacrifice  if  love  and  honour  and  duty  and  heroism 
called  for  it.  But  they  did  not  call,  so  the  lad  was 
spared.  The  particular  had  given  way  to  the  uni- 
versal, the  temporal  had  given  way  to  the  eternal. 
The  question  most  men  have  to  face  some  time  or 
other  is — What  shall  we  do  when  the  highest  form 
of  giving  is  asked  for,  the  yielding  of  love  in  the 
name  of  righteousness?  Abraham's  answer  you 
have,  Bunyan's  only  expresses  it  a  little  more 
vividly.  We  know,  then,  what  God  requires  of 
us. 

Now,  brethren,  to  bring  the  matter  still  more 
plainly  home  to  our  consciousness,  let  me  adduce 
modern  experience.  To-day  is  yours  and  mine.  It 
is  but  a  year  or  two  since  England  was  stirred  at 
the  news  that  Lord  Roberts  had  been  commanded 
to  go  to  the  front  and  direct  the  movements  of  the 
British  troops  in  South  Africa.  In  a  dark  hour  of 
the  history  of  his  country  he  went — it  was  a  darker 
hour  in  his  own.  His  boy  had  fallen  on  the  field 
of  Colenso,  and  I  who  speak  to  you  to-night  went 
to  see  the  spot  where  he  fell,  and  stood  on  it,  and 
thought  what  I  am  now  telling  you.  We  were  all 


THE  HIGHEST  SELF-OFFERING      181 

greatly  moved  with  admiration  when  the  veteran, 
without  a  word  about  his  own  sorrow,  went  bravely 
to  the  front  at  the  call  of  duty.  He  was  serving 
his  country,  not  counting  the  cost,  and  it  does  not 
matter  to  us  at  the  moment  whether  the  service  in 
which  he  was  engaged  was  (so  far  as  the  policy  is 
concerned)  right  or  wrong.  He  was  right  to  go. 
The  sympathetic  fibre  in  our  hearts  is  touched  for 
this  reason — that  man  if  he  had  had  another  son, 
would  have  laid  him  down  if  England  had  wanted 
him.  Now  England  called  for  the  father  himself. 
Would  he  have  given  more  gladly  his  life  or  his 
boy  ?  The  question  need  not  be  answered.  Lord 
Roberts  gave  his  son  and  gave  himself,  he  gave 
himself  in  his  son  before  he  ever  saw  South 
Africa. 

Well,  now,  I  have  instanced  a  man  in  high  station. 
I  am  going  to  tell  you  about  another  whom  you 
do  not  know,  and  perhaps  only  two  people  in  this 
congregation  do  know.  A  man  who  never  had 
more  than  thirty  shillings  a  week  in  his  life,  but 
he  did  as  much  as,  or  more,  than  Lord  Roberts. 
He  stood  exactly  in  the  position  in  which  Abraham 
stood  on  Mount  Moriah.  A  working  man  in 
Brighton,  a  man  of  sterling  character  and  moral 
worth,  of  delicate  health,  who  had  known  struggle 
all  his  days,  but  who,  unlike  so  many  of  his  fellows, 
fears  God  and  keeps  His  commandments,  gave  this 
as  the  explanation  of  his  conduct  in  an  hour  of 
confidence  to  me.  He  said,  "  I  was  the  son  of  a 


1 82      THE  HIGHEST  SELF-OFFERING 

man  who  had  still  less  in  his  best  days  than  I  have 
ever  had  to  spend.  I  was  brought  up  in  a  poor 
home,  all  the  poorer  for  the  incident  that  made  me 
what  I  hope  I  am."  His  father  had  been  turned 
away  from  his  work  because  he  could  and  would 
not  do  a  mean  and  shabby  and  wicked  thing. 
He  would  not  lie  away  his  manhood,  and  he 
would  not  cheat  another  man's  rights  out  of 
existence.  The  alternative  was  presented  to  him, 
"Comply  or  you  go."  He  thought  about  his 
wife  and  children,  laid  them  on  the  altar  of  duty, 
and  went.  "And,"  says  my  friend  (for  I  am 
proud  to  claim  him  as  a  friend),  "  I  was  the  only 
one  of  the  family  old  enough  to  know  what  it  had 
cost  my  father.  He  did  not  tell  me,  it  was  my 
mother.  As  she  cut  the  last  loaf  for  the  children 
her  tears  were  falling  fast  over  the  bread,  and  I 
questioned  her  to  know  why.  She  took  me  aside 
and  explained,  and  I  have  never  forgotten  how  my 
heart  swelled  and  my  bosom  throbbed  as  in  sympathy 
I  took  my  stand  with  my  father.  She  said,  '  He  is 
a  true  man,  he  has  done  right.  We  must  praise 
God,  we  must  trust  Him  for  our  bread.'"  He 
continued,  "They  were  hard  times  and  anxious. 
We  came  through  at  last,  but  in  a  manner  of 
speaking  we  never  got  back  where  my  father  volun- 
tarily stepped  from.  But,  oh,  don't  I  love  and 
revere  his  memory !  All  that  is  good  in  me  to-day 
I  feel  I  owe  to  that  man's  influence  and  example. 
He  was  a  father  of  whom  to  be  proud,  a  man  of  God !  " 


THE  HIGHEST  SELF-OFFERING      183 

Brethren,  there  are  so  few  of  these  fathers  in 
this  England  of  ours  to-day  that  some  of  us  are 
beginning  to  wonder  whether  her  glory  is  over. 
You  would  not  have  to  ask  the  question  if  you 
could  multiply  that  man  by  a  hundred  thousand. 
The  destiny  of  our  nation  would  be  safe. 

It  was  Abraham's  principle  again.  God  asked 
for  something,  not  that  He  did  not  know  what  His 
servant  would  do,  but  His  servant  had  to  know  it, 
like  Abraham  as  he  stood  at  the  altar  counting  the 
cost.  His  decision  was  this  : — 

"  Because  right  is  right,  to  follow  right 
Were  wisdom  in  the  scorn  of  consequence." 

So  on  the  altar,  like  Bunyan,  he  put  his  wife  and 
babes,  came  out  a  hero  and  a  conqueror  for  the 
living  God. 

You  and  I  may  have  to  be  confronted  with  this 
very  question  in  some  other  form.  I  think  this 
man  of  the  Bible  did  not  solve  it  any  more  truly 
than  the  working  man  at  Brighton,  and  we  read  the 
Bible  wrong  and  mistake  its  significance  if  we  think 
Abraham  had  any  greater  help  to  rescue  him  or  any 
severer  tests  to  pass  through  or  any  deeper  spiritual 
questions  to  solve  than  you  or  I.  Abraham's  God  is  my 
God,  your  God,  the  God  of  my  Brighton  friend,  and 
it  is  his  question  we  have  to  solve  in  another  form. 
May  we  never  mistake  its  meaning.  Sometimes  you 
may  stumble  into  the  blunder  of  Mr  Lecky's 
media? val  saint,  or  you  may  rise  to  the  height  of 
Bunyan  and  the  Brighton  working  man.  Which 


1 84     THE  HIGHEST  SELF-OFFERING 

shall  it  be?  I  have  heard  people  say  things  like 
this,  "God  knows  I  loved  that  lad  too  much,  so  He 
took  him  away.  He  left  me  lonely  and  left  me  sad, 
but  then  I  ought  not  to  have  loved  anyone  in 
excess."  Or  I  have  heard  the  word  of  warning: 
"Mother,  father,  do  not  adore  that  child  as  you  do. 
Do  not  pour  your  affection  upon  him  without  reserve 
as  you  are  in  danger  of  doing.  Oh,  be  careful,  be- 
cause he  may  be  taken  from  you.  You  may  be 
loving  him  too  much."  Beloved,  that  is  a  lie  !  We 
never  love  anyone  too  much.  God  never  asks  from 
any  man  anything  approaching  to  the  sacrifice  of 
noble  affection.  I  am  aware  that  there  is  something 
here  that  savours  of  the  sacrifice  that  Bunyan  made 
and  that  Abraham  was  willing  to  make,  but  the 
form  in  which  the  question  is  put  savours  more  of 
Abraham's  decision  on  the  sacrificial  morning.  We 
never  love  too  much,  we  only  love  too  little.  God 
is  not  a  jealous  God  in  that  sense,  that  you  are  to 
take  your  child  out  of  His  way  because  He  will  be 
first.  The  prophet  saw  clearer  who  said,  "If  a  man 
love  not  his  brother  whom  he  hath  seen,  how  can 
he  love  God  Whom  he  hath  not  seen  ? "  But  there 
is  a  love  for  which  men  and  women  will  sin.  The 
wife  will  lie  for  the  husband,  mothers  will  do  wrong 
for  their  children,  fathers  will  sin  for  home,  friend 
will  sacrifice  to  the  devil  for  friend.  Know,  then, 
that  in  every  case  where  such  decision  is  taken  you 
have  sacrificed  husband,  wife,  child,  self,  to  the 
lower,  and  not  to  the  higher.  The  highest  love  is 


THE  HIGHEST  SELF-OFFERING     185 

the  love  of  Christ,  which  passeth  knowledge,  and  by 
that  I  mean  the  love  of  Christ  which  never  spared, 
never  will  spare  those  whom  He  calls.  He  will  have 
the  highest,  and  the  highest  self-offering  may  mean, 
often  does  mean,  Calvary.  I  wonder  what  the 
mother  of  Jesus  thought  when  she  saw  Him  hanging, 
agonising,  dying,  upon  the  cross.  He  did  not  spare 
her,  because  His  Father  had  not  given  Him  the 
word  to  come  down  from  the  cross.  He  hung  there, 
and  she  suffered  in  Him.  I  wonder  what  Peter 
thought  when  he  learned  what  it  meant  to  follow 
the  Nazarene  after  all.  He  had  denied  Him  to  save 
his  own  life,  afraid  of  the  lash  in  Pilate's  hall  when 
he  saw  it  lacerating  his  Master's  back — poor  timid 
Galilean,  afraid,  yet  loving  all  the  time.  But  when 
the  awful  crisis  was  past  and  he  met  his  Master 
again  and  sobbed  out  his  shame  and  his  sorrow,  there 
was  a  new  Peter.  What  did  life  mean  now  ?  Jesus 
promised  no  bed  of  roses,  no  fine  time  in  this  world, 
but  He  promised  him  a  reward  of  which  the  world 
could  not  rob  him,  and  I  think  I  would  rather  have 
been  Peter  than  Pilate  a  thousand  times.  Pilate  had 
his  chance  and  lost  it,  Peter  had  his  again  and  took 
it.  He  went  to  stripes,  imprisonment,  contumely, 
shame,  the  cross — the  actual  wooden  cross,  upon 
which  Peter  died  for  His  Master.  That  is  the  love 
of  Christ,  which  passeth  knowledge,  for  where  is 
Peter  to-day  ?  Nearer,  perhaps,  than  you  and  I  think. 
Heaven  might  press  through  this  wall  of  film,  and 
show  us  how  things  really  are.  What  is  death? 


1 86     THE  HIGHEST  SELF-OFFERING 

Nothing.  Life  is  everything.  "  Fear  not  them  that 
kill  the  body  and  after  that  have  no  more  that  they 
can  do."  But  fear  surrender  to  the  base,  fear  to 
trifle  with  noble  love,  fear  to  stain  with  mud  and 
dirt  the  affection  which  God  has  given  you.  Give 
all  to  Him.  Consecrate  all  earth's  affection  at  the 
altar,  and  if  from  the  altar  you  must  go  to  Calvary, 
then  go !  Love's  highest  is  called  for,  the  worthiest, 
the  only  one  which  you  can  offer  in  the  presence 
of  the  Lamb  of  God.  If  you  give  it,  you  shall 
find  your  soul  again,  higher,  purer,  in  the  glory  land. 
For  in  heaven  all  that  you  have  ever  loved  that  was 
worth  loving,  in  heaven  all  that  you  have  ever  served 
that  was  worth  serving,  is  in  the  keeping  of  the 
Lord  Jesus.  That  Friend  who  never  failed  a  friend 
has  in  reserve  for  you  everything  you  have  offered 
Him.  Oh,  if  men  knew  what  a  blunder  sin  is,  if 
they  knew  how  little  it  was  worth  while  to  trifle 
with  the  opportunity  that  God  gives,  no  altar  would 
be  set  up  by  the  hand  divine  on  which  we  would 
be  unwilling  to  place  ourselves  or  lay  the  nearest 
and  the  dearest  if  God  and  the  kingdom  of  heaven 
required  it. 

Let  nothing  stand  between  you  and  God  and 
truth  and  right.  The  highest  service  you  can 
render  to  a  dear  one  is  to  love  him  too  much  to 
sin  for  him. 

If  any  affection  asks  you  to  be  disloyal  to  God 
and  right  and  truth,  nail  it  on  the  cross.  It  is 
your  best  course  with  what  God  has  given  you. 


THE  HIGHEST  SELF-OFFERING      187 

Here,  it  may  be,  I  am  coming  closer  to  your  ex- 
perience. How  do  I  know  but  that  I  am  speaking 
to  some  person  who  is  tempted  for  love's  sake  to 
compromise  with  what  you  know  to  be  good  ? 
Never  do  it.  Never  stand  for  a  moment  in  the 
presence  of  the  adversary  of  your  souls.  Away 
with  everything  that  hinders  your  approach  to  God. 
There  may  be  those  here  who  have  known  home 
tragedies  too  dreadful  to  be  named  in  the  public 
place.  You  perhaps  know,  mother^  father,  what 
David  felt  when  in  the  line  of  his  duty  he  sent 
an  army  against  his  son.  You  know  that  cry  of 
agony  that  was  wrung  from  his  royal  heart,  "O, 
Absalom,  my  son,  my  son,  Absalom!  would  God 
I  had  died  for  thee,  O  Absalom,  my  son,  my  son ! " 
My  friend,  if  there  be  any  temptation  upon  your 
road  which  means  surrender  to  a  false  love,  I 
beseech  you  to  have  done  with  it.  God  will  take 
you  through,  prepare  Himself  a  lamb  for  the  burnt 
offering.  Shall  not  the  Judge  of  all  the  earth  do  right? 
Stern  and  even  terrible  sometimes  is  the  love  of 
God,  but  it  never  fails  the  loved.  Hold  on  to  it, 
and  it  will  save  you.  Hear  the  words  of  one  who 
gave  all  that  man -could  give  to  the  service  of  the 
living  God :  "I  am  persuaded  that  neither  death, 
nor  life,  nor  angels,  nor  principalities,  nor  powers, 
nor  things  present,  nor  things  to  come,  nor  height, 
nor  depth,  nor  any  other  creature,  shall  be  able  to 
separate  us  from  the  love  of  God,  which  is  in  Christ 
Jesus  our  Lord." 


THIRSTING  FOR  THE  WATER  OF  LIFE 


THERE  is  a  pathetic  story  attaching  to  the  sermon  which  bears  this 
title.  I  had  in  mind  a  good  man  whose  quiet  work  in  London 
many  people  have  reason  to  thank  God  for,  but  who  in  his  time 
has  sinned  and  suffered  deeply.  There  are  few  men  for  whom  I 
have  a  greater  respect,  but  not  until  lately  have  I  been  able  to 
persuade  him  to  put  an  end  to  his  mournful  habit  of  retrospection. 
He  has  allowed  the  consequences  of  one  sad  mistake  to  cloud  the 
whole  of  his  spiritual  life.  What  he  is  principally  slow  to  see  is 
that  self-reproach  carried  to  excess  is  a  form  of  unfaith.  A  full 
salvation  is  inconsistent  with  longing  and  regret  for  a  day  that  is 
dead.  Too  great  a  readiness  to  turn  one's  back  upon  the  past  is  a 
mark  of  shallowness,  but  the  opposite  is  a  kind  of  spiritual  sombre- 
ness.  There  are  many  who  fall  into  both  errors. 


XI 

"And  David  longed,  and  said,  Oh  that  one  would  give  me  drink  of  the 
water  of  the  well  of  Beth-lehem,  which  is  by  the  gate!  "  —  2  SAM.  xxiii. 


THERE  are  some  characters  in  song  and  story  which 
have  the  power  of  impressing  posterity  with  some- 
thing of  the  charm  felt  in  their  presence  by  their 
contemporaries.  It  is  not  always  easy  to  say  just 
why.  For  instance,  a  book  just  issued  gives  us  yet 
one  more  study  added  to  the  numerous  and  appar- 
ently never-ending  series  of  studies  of  the  character 
and  career  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots.  Even  to 
English  people,  Mary  Queen  of  Scots  is  always 
profoundly  interesting.  Can  you  tell  me  why? 
Some  would  say,  "Yes,  because  such  a  mystery 
surrounds  her  career."  That  is  not  all  :  mystery 
surrounds  many  other  people,  but  we  are  not  all 
interested  in  solving  it.  The  fact  is  there  is  some- 
thing distinctly  human  about  the  character  of  Mary 
Queen  of  Scots.  There  is  something  in  her  which 
vibrates  in  the  great  heart  of  humanity  the  wide 
world  over.  That  is  why,  with  all  her  sin  and 
sorrow,  we  feel  her  to  be  so  truly  typical  of  the 
experiences  which  are  repeating  themselves  in  every 
century  and  generation. 

Such  a  character  again  is  that  of  Alexander  the 


1 92    THIRSTING  FOR  THE  WATER  OF  LIFE 

Great.  His  soldiers  would  have  died  for  him 
willingly ;  they  asked  no  greater  honour,  no  higher 
ideal,  than  to  perish  in  the  sight  of  Alexander, 
doing  his  bidding,  winning  his  battles.  As  we  look 
back  we  can  hardly  understand  why ;  yet  Alexander 
lives  for  us  as  he  lived  for  them :  we  feel  him  to  be 
a  real  personality.  Amid  all  the  shadowy  figures  of 
history  a  man  like  this  stands  right  out.  Why  is 
it  ?  Why,  in  spite  of  his  sensational  ambition,  there 
was  something  wonderfully  human,  rich,  and  deep 
in  the  character  of  Alexander.  Closer  to  our  own 
history  and  experience,  perhaps,  we  come  when  we 
name  King  Alfred.  Little  is  known  about  Alfred 
that  is  authentic  ;  his  name  and  work  come  down 
to  us  through  the  mists  of  legend.  We  cannot  see 
distinctly  the  face  of  the  great  Saxon  king,  but  he 
has  cast  a  spell  over  us  as  he  has  cast  a  spell  over 
many  Englishmen  since  his  own  day.  Why  is  it? 
This  time  because,  however  apocryphal  the  stories 
may  be  which  are  told  about  him,  we  feel  the  spell 
of  personal  goodness  :  it  is  a  real  man  and  a  true 
that  looks  out  upon  us  from  that  far  century.  Such 
a  character  again  is  Queen  Elizabeth.  Never  was  a 
British  sovereign  served  by  a  nobler  or  greater  band 
of  men  than  stood  around  the  throne  of  the  maiden 
queen.  There  are  flaws  in  that  great  character. 
A  woman  truly  on  some  sides  of  her  nature,  she 
seemed  to  be  a  wild  beast  on  others.  The  very 
men  who  served  her  best  were  by  her  lightly  and 
easily  forgotten.  Yet  Cromwell  said — and  we  echo 


THIRSTING  FOR  THE  WATER  OF  LIFE     193 

Cromwell's  words,  looking  back  as  he  looked — 
"  Queen  Elizabeth  of  famous  memory.  We  need  not 
be  ashamed  to  call  her  so."  To  a  Scottish  audience 
I  would  adduce  as  a  similar  figure  in  history,  loom- 
ing large  and  clear,  Bonnie  Prince  Charlie.  Of  all 
the  beautiful  songs  ever  written  or  sung  north  of 
the  Tweed,  none  excel  those  that  have  been  com- 
posed concerning  the  personality  of  Prince  Charles. 
Was  he  good  ?  I  am  afraid  I  cannot  say  as  much 
as  that.  How  he  falsified  the  promises  of  youth, 
this  man  who  spent  his  days  in  lust  and  debauchery, 
and  filled  a  drunkard's  grave  at  last !  Yet  every 
person  who  reads  his  biography  is  touched  by  it, 
and  feels  a  certain  thrill  of  sympathy  for  Bonnie 
Prince  Charlie  and  for  his  fate.  Something  clings 
to  his  personality  that  redeems  him,  in  spite  of  his 
faults,  and  we  can  hardly  say  just  what  it  is. 

I  have  named  a  long  series :  we  feel  as  if  we 
have  personal  acquaintance  with  each  of  them. 
We  cannot  say  just  why  it  is  they  stand  out,  except 
it  was  that  they  are  typical  of  humanity,  as  a  whole, 
in  its  sins  and  sorrows,  good  and  evil,  joy  and  pain. 
They  sounded  the  depths,  they  rose  to  the  heights. 
Humanity  vibrates  in  sympathy  with  such  careers. 
Distinctively  such  was  King  David.  I  have  purposely 
named  these  great  ones  of  antiquity  one  by  one, 
because  I  thought  you  might  like  to  hear  why  it  is 
that  we  feel  that  had  we  to  place  them  in  sequence 
we  might  place  this  Old  Testament  character  first. 
Everybody  feels  that  he  knows  King  David.  I 

N 


194    THIRSTING  FOR  THE  WATER  OF  LIFE 

always  feel  as  if  I  could  recognise  him  in  the  street. 
We  are  not  afraid  of  him  at  all ;  we  are  not  awed 
by  his  majesty.  We  feel  a  certain  sympathy  and 
kinship  with  his  character.  Why  is  it  ?  Just  for 
the  same  reason  as  those  whom  I  have  already 
named  come  home  to  us.  It  is  because  of  some- 
thing distinctively  human,  real,  deep,  and  true  in 
the  nature  of  this  Israelitish  king.  /  Oh,  he  sinned 
deeply,  he  repented  agonisingly,  he  suffered  greatly, 
he  won  grandly. )  He  is  described  as  a  man  after 
God's  own  heart;  but  that  was  not  because  he 
never  sinned  a  sin  or  never  made  a  mistake.  Take 
his  life.  Here  was  an  adulterer,  a  man  of  treachery, 
lust,  and  evil;  a  man  who  sunk  as  low  as  it  is 
possible  for  a  man  to  do,  and  retain  anything  to 
which  we  can  give  the  name  of  manhood;  yet,  in 
spite  of  it  all,  we  feel  as  if  there  were  something 
generous,  noble,  child-like,  in  the  nature  of  King 
David,  which  showed  itself  time  and  again,  and 
stamps  him  truly  human.  This  was  the  man  who 
loved  Jonathan,  who  mourned  for  Absalom.  In 
all  history,  in  all  literature,  there  is  no  more 
pathetic  cry  than  the  cry  that  went  up  from  that 
bereaved  father's  heart :  "  O  my  son  Absalom,  my 
son,  my  son  Absalom !  Would  God  I  had  died  for 
thee,  O  Absalom,  my  son,  my  son ! "  That  alone 
would  bring  us  close  to  the  heart  of  King  David, 
but  here  in  this  chapter  is  told  a  simple  incident 
that  shows  us  something  like  the  spell  of  Alexander 
upon  his  followers.  David  had  around  him  mighty 


THIRSTING  FOR  THE  WATER  OF  LIFE    195 

men,  who  loved,  worshipped,  followed,  would  have 
laid  down  their  lives  for  him.  One  day,  toward 
the  end  of  his  life,  the  weary  old  king,  looking 
back  upon  the  scenes  of  his  childhood,  murmurs  a 
prayer  aloud,  and  the  dull  ears  of  the  mighty  men 
catch  it.  They  speed  to  gratify  his  wish;  they 
do  it  at  the  j  eopardy  of  their  lives.  It  was  a  grand 
deed.  "  Oh,"  cried  the  king,  "  that  one  would 
give  me  drink  of  the  water  of  the  well  of  Bethlehem, 
which  is  by  the  gate ! "  When  they  had  brought 
it,  their  own  blood  being  the  price  of  it,  and  placed 
it  in  his  hands,  he  could  not  drink  it.  "  Be  it  far 
from  me,  O  Lord,  that  I  should  do  this :  is  not  this 
the  blood  of  the  men  that  went  in  jeopardy  of 
their  lives  ? "  Therefore,  he  would  not  drink  it, 
but  poured  it  out  unto  the  Lord.  I  say  there  is 
something  dramatic  there,  something  beautifully 
human,  something  grand  on  both  sides.  David 
was  no  less  typically  human,  standing  on  his 
pedestal,  than  were  the  three  mighty  men  who 
won  for  him  the  drink  that  he  said  he  longed  for. 

Do  you  think  they  brought  David  precisely  what 
he  wanted?  No;  the  mighty  men  missed  seeing 
something  that  you  and  I  can  see  now,  looking 
back.  David  was  a  poet,  a  seer ;  the  tongue  that 
uttered  this  prayer  was  one  which,  though  it  may 
not  have  uttered  it  for  the  first  time,  must  have  sung 
in  the  house  of  God :  "The  Lord  is  my  Shepherd, 
I  shall  not  want.  He  maketh  me  to  lie  down  in 
green  pastures,  He  leadeth  me  beside  the  waters  of 


196    THIRSTING  FOR  THE  WATER  OF  LIFE 

rest."  It  was  David  the  poet  who  spoke.  The 
weary  old  man,  drawing  toward  the  evening  of  his 
days,  looking  back  upon  the  Bethlehem  of  his  youth, 
where  he  used  to  keep  his  father's  sheep  in  the 
fold,  and  thinking  of  the  long,  dreary  pilgrimage 
between  that  day  and  this,  utters,  almost  in  the 
spirit  of  the  Shepherd  Psalm,  the  plaint  and  the 
prayer,  "  Oh,  that  I  could  go  back ;  oh,  that  one 
would  give  me  to  drink  of  the  water  of  the  well  of 
Bethlehem ! "  An  impossible  prayer.  The  king 
could  not  be  the  shepherd  boy  again  ;  the  innocence 
of  his  joyous  youth  was  past.  But  I  think  I  know 
what  he  felt,  and  so  do  you.  Recently  I  went  to 
visit  a  spot  where  some  of  my  childhood's  days  were 
spent,  and  some  of  the  very  happiest  I  have  ever 
spent  anywhere.  I  went  to  look  at  the  old  scenes 
that  I  thought  I  remembered  so  well.  It  was  a  sad 
vision.  The  old  home  was  in  ruins  in  the  ground  ; 
a  little  way  up  the  road  there  was  a  spring  well, 
by  the  side  of  which  I  used,  as  a  boy,  to  play. 
I  saw  so  many  changes  that  I  did  not  even  want 
to  go  and  look.  But  a  kind  friend  took  me  as 
guide.  "  Good  water,  Mr  Campbell,"  he  said. 
"  I  know  that,"  I  replied ;  but  I  did  not  drink  it. 
David  did  not  want  that  water,  he  wanted  childhood 
again,  and  childhood's  radiance,  sweetness  and  purity. 
I  think  I  felt  just  a  little  as  David  must  have  felt. 
The  water  was  no  good  to  him.  He  could  not 
go  back  ;  you  and  I  cannot  go  back. 

Is  there  a  single  person  who  does  not  feel  some- 


THIRSTING  FOR  THE  WATER  OF  LIFE     197 

thing  of  this  in  his  experience?  There  may  be 
some  who  do  not  look  back  upon  their  child- 
hood with  anything  approaching  pleasure.  I  see 
one  man  whose  childhood  was  one  long  tragedy. 
Now  the  Lord  has  led  him  to  a  large  place; 
but  for  the  most  of  us  it  is  not  so.  We  look 
back  for  something,  we  can  hardly  describe  what ; 
but  something  we  miss  in  life  as  it  is.  We  were 
nearer  to  heaven,  to  reality,  to  sweetness  once— 
or  so  we  sometimes  feel — than  we  are  to-day. 
Gazing  into  your  faces,  I  read  history  in  every  one 
— moral  experience  chiselled  in.  Some  of  you 
look  careworn,  tired,  unable  for  the  burden  of 
life ;  some  as  though  you  are  ready  to  lay  it 
down.  Others  standing  up  to  it,  as  it  were, 
strong,  rich,  full  in  your  manhood  ;  but  you  bear 
the  scars,  and  on  every  one  of  you  is  the  hand- 
writing of  time,  pain,  sorrow.  Do  you  never  look 
wistfully  back,  wish  you  had  your  opportunities 
again,  feel  as  though  you  would  make  a  better 
thing  of  life,  with  fewer  mistakes,  fewer  things 
to  regret  if  you  could  only  start  once  more?  Do 
you  think  about  the  chequered  way  that  you  have 
come  ?  And  now  with  David's  experience,  you  are 
living  through  your  happy  childhood,  when  you 
knew  nothing  about  life  as  you  know  it  now. 
Some  of  you  never  dreamed  of  being  in  the  City 
Temple  this  morning,  and  you  wish  that  everything 
during  the  last  five,  ten,  or  twenty  years,  which 
has  culminated  in  your  being  in  this  place  this 


198    THIRSTING  FOR  THE  WATER  OF  LIFE 

morning  could  be  blotted  out.  You  were  in  a 
holier  once,  or  so  you  feel,  when  you  lisped  your 
prayer  beside  your  mother's  knee,  when  you  lived 
under  the  shadow  of  your  father's  good  name. 
Love  came  then,  and  made  life  richer  and  fuller ; 
sorrow  followed  it,  and  made  it  darker  and  emptier ; 
sin  came,  and  blackened  it.  The  old  home  is  gone ; 
the  old  environment,  the  sweet  fleckless  experience, 
so  heavenly,  so  pure.  "  Oh,  for  a  drink  of  the 
water  of  the  well  of  Bethlehem,  which  is  by  the 
gate !  "  David  longs  and  says.  There  are  more 
poets  than  David  to  say  it  for  us ;  and  many  a 
poet  has  said  it  since.  One  of  the  greatest  of 
our  own,  reared  as  it  were  in  our  very  atmosphere, 
writes  thus : — 

"  As  life  wanes,  all  its  strife  and  care  and  toil 
Seem  strangely  valueless,  while  the  old  trees 
Which  grew  by  our  youth's  home,  the  waving  mass 
Of  climbing  plants,  heavy  with  bloom  and  dew 
The  morning  swallows,  with  their  songs  like  words^ 
All  these  seem  clear  and  only  worth  our  thought." 

Browning  and  Tennyson  changed  roles  for  once — 
it  is  the  latter  that  strikes  the  sublimer  as  well  as 
the  more  familiar  note : — 

"  Break,  break,  break, 

On  thy  cold  grey  stones,  O  sea ! 
And  I  would  that  my  tongue  could  utter 
The  thoughts  that  arise  in  me." 

"  Break,  break,  break, 

At  the  foot  of  thy  crags,  O  sea  ! 


THIRSTING  FOR  THE  WATER  OF  LIFE    199 

But  the  tender  grace  of  a  day  that  is  dead 
Will  never  come  back  to  me." 

This  is  a  very  natural  feeling,  and  there  are  many 
ways  of  treating  it;  here  is  one — I  name  it  only 
to  reject  it — the  way  of  Cynicism  and  Pessimism. 
It  is  to  steel  heart  and  mind  against  melancholy, 
remorse,  and  even  affectionate  regret.  You  may 
pass  a  day  in  comparative  quiet  if  you  try  not  to 
feel,  not  to  realise,  not  to  look  back. 

"  Ah  !   my  beloved,  fill  the  cup  that  clears 
To-day  of  past  regrets  and  future  fears  ; 
To-morrow  ! — why,  to-morrow  I  may  be 
Myself  with  yesterday's  sev'n  thousand  years." 

That  will  not  satisfy  except  for  a  moment.  We 
may  all  feel  ourselves  in  that  mood,  but  we  do  not 
stay  there.  The  Persian  poet  himself  did  not; 
he  knew  that  there  was  another  and  higher  way. 
It  is  this — to  realise  that  true  life,  the  life  of 
the  soul,  never  grows  old,  although  it  grows  up. 
Our  true  home  never  is,  never  was,  amid  the 
symbols  and  shadows  of  time,  but  in  the  grand 
reality  of  eternity.  The  well  of  Bethlehem  in  the 
morning — there  is  no  turning  back  to  it  in  the  after- 
noon. There  is  a  farther,  a  more  glorious  morning, 
a  deeper,  a  nobler,  a  purer  draught  from  the  waters  of 
God,  the  waters  of  rest.  The  soul  in  growing  older 
is  not  farther  from  God  than  in  the  days  of  sweet  in- 
nocence. To  turn  in  simplest,  most  childlike  trust  to 
God,  truth,  heaven,  wherever  you  are  and  however 
you  are,  is  to  drink  deep  of  the  water  of  ageless  life. 


200    THIRSTING  FOR  THE  WATER  OF  LIFE 

I  have  now  come  to  the  point  where  I  must  go 
to  humanity's  purest  teacher.  We  shall  take  our 
stand  by  the  Son  of  Man,  the  human  Christ,  as 
He  sits  weary  on  the  well  of  Samaria.  Try  for 
one  moment  to  do  this  in  reality.  Here  is  Jesus 
treading  life's  dusty  pathway,  feeling  as  you  and 
I  often  feel,  knowing,  as  you  and  I  know  life 
with  its  trials,  disappointments,  sorrows,  failures, 
its  beginnings  again ;  living  through  it  all,  never 
defeated  by  it.  Here  sits  Jesus  weary  with 
the  greatness  of  the  way,  like  ourselves  wanting 
human  sympathy,  and,  as  we  so  often  are,  re- 
fused. "Give  me  to  drink,"  pleads  the  Son  of 
Man  ;  and  the  answer  is  dislike,  prejudice,  ignorance. 
Then  the  Divine  remonstrance  comes,  "  If  thou 
knewest  the  gift  of  God,  and  who  it  is  that  saith 
unto  thee,  Give  Me  to  drink,  thou  wouldst  have 
asked  of  Him,  and  He  would  have  given  thee 
living  water.  Whoso  drinketh  of  this  water  shall 
thirst  again,  but  whoso  drinketh  of  the  water  that  I 
shall  give  him  shall  never  thirst.  But  it  shall  be  in 
him  a  well  of  water,  springing  up  unto  eternal  life." 

This  was  the  water  for  which  David  thirsted 
when  the  poet-king  uttered  his  longing  cry  for 
the  water  of  the  well  of  Bethlehem,  he  was 
looking  back  to  the  life  of  the  child,  but  I  think 
in  his  heart  was  the  longing  for  the  life  of  the 
saint.  Can  we  feel  as  David  must  have  felt  at  that 
time?  Looking  back  along  the  road  of  life,  what 
did  he  see  ?  There  is  Shimei,  flying,  cursing  him, 


THIRSTING  FOR  THE  WATER  OF  LIFE    201 

and  throwing  dust  upon  him  as  he  walks  with  bowed 
and  stricken  head.  Yonder  in  the  wood  hangs  the 
body  of  his  dearest  loved  son,  who  has  lifted  his 
hand  against  his  father's  throne  and  his  father's  life. 
Yonder,  again,  he  sees  Israel  exulting,  he  hears  the 
shout  of  his  people  going  up  in  acclamation  when 
the  fearless  shepherd  boy  comes  from  his  seclusion 
to  strike  down  Israel's  tyrant.  A  proud  moment, 
but  David  does  not  want  that  moment  again.  Now 
he  sees  in  the  hand  of  the  great  king,  whom  it  is 
his  privilege  and  duty  to  soothe,  the  poised  javelin, 
ready  to  be  thrown.  Now  he  is  fleeing  for  his  life, 
hunted  like  a  partridge  on  the  hill ;  now  his  arms 
are  round  about  Jonathan.  And,  again,  Jonathan 
dead,  Saul  gone,  David  king — strong,  unscrupulous, 
guilty,  taking  Bathsheba  to  his  bosom,  Uriah 
gasping  his  last  at  the  front  of  the  fighting-line, 
slain  by  the  lust  and  the  treachery  of  him  who  was 
after  God's  own  heart.  Now  he  seems  to  see  again 
the  sombre  figure  of  the  prophet  of  God  entering 
into  his  presence  in  the  midst  of  his  splendour,  pomp, 
and  triumph — "  Thou  art  the  man  !  "  and  the  voice 
of  conscience  re-echoed  the  voice  of  the  prophet. 
"  Oh,"  thinks  the  weary  old  king,  drawing  near  to 
the  end,  "If  I  could  but  go  back!  Oh,  for  a  drink 
of  the  water  of  the  well  of  Bethlehem.  Oh,  for 
childhood's  opportunity !  "  That  is  how  some  of 
us  feel  amidst  the  trivialities,  absurdities,  shams, 
meanness,  violence  of  life.  Are  we  not  weary, 
would  we  not  go  back  ?  But  the  true  and  deeper 


102    THIRSTING  FOR  THE  WATER  OF  LIFE 

thought  is  David's  own.  Would  we  not  go  up  ? 
Oh,  if  there  be  water  of  life,  give  me  to  drink ! 
O  Lord  with  the  pierced  hand,  no  mighty  man  can 
bring  me  that  water,  the  draught  of  which  means 
that  I  thirst  not  again.  But  there  is  One  who 
fought  His  battle  for  me,  and  brings  it  to  me,  the 
crown  of  thorns  upon  His  head,  the  mark  of  the 
lacerating  spear  in  His  side.  With  the  pierced  hand 
He  gives  that  cup ;  Master  from  Thy  hand  we  take 
it,  the  water  of  ageless  life. 

If  this  be  true,  and  my  whole  life  is  built  on  it, 
and  my  whole  task  here  springs  from  deepest  sincerity 
concerning  it,  I  want  you  to  do  something  to-day,  do 
it  now.  I  address  first,  it  may  be,  that  young  man 
who  has  been  in  London  I  know  not  how  long,  but 
long  enough  to  learn  the  ways  of  sin.  There  are 
some  things  he  wishes  he  had  never  looked  upon,  some 
words  he  had  better  never  have  heard,  some  deeds  he 
had  better  never  have  done.  Oh,  cursed  wisdom! 
Give  me  back  my  innocence!  Here  is  another  in  whom 
the  vexations,  disappointments,  crushing  sorrows  of 
life  have  succeeded  in  dulling  the  spiritual  suscepti- 
bility. Such  a  one  does  not  look  up  any  more,  the 
soul  is  silent  towards  God.  You  are  no  longer 
capable  of  high  expectation  or  high  enthusiasm. 
Again,  look  at  that  man  who  once  was  a  success 
like  King  David  in  his  heyday.  This  man  of 
business  was  once  a  man  of  power,  of  influence,  but 
in  an  evil  moment  success  tempted  him  to  that 
which  in  his  conscience,  he  knew  to  be  wrong !  he 


THIRSTING  FOR  THE  WATER  OF  LIFE    203 

has  been  hurled  down  from  his  eminence,  and  life 
is  a  tragic  failure  for  him  to-day.  His  heart  is  full 
of  bitterness  and  self-loathing.  Yet  for  the  moment 
he  thinks,  If  I  could  begin  again !  Oh,  for  a  drink  of 
the  water  of  the  well  of  Bethlehem  that  is  at  the  gate 
of  manhood  !  How  different  it  might  be !  Now 
listen  to  me.  You  are  only  a  child  still,  everyone 
of  you.  You  thought  you  had  gone  a  long  way 
from  God,  and  so  in  experience  you  did.  But  the 
Father  cared  too  much  for  you  to  allow  you  to  do 
it  with  impunity.  You  have  paid  for  your  ex- 
perience, sometimes  in  sharpest  discipline,  sometimes 
in  deepest  sorrow.  "Shall  not  the  Judge  of  all 
the  earth  do  right  ? "  Pray  your  prayer  like  a 
child ;  there  is  no  going  back ;  God  in  His  mercy 
has  closed  that  door ;  the  way  is  up. 

"  We  have  passed  age's  icy  caves 
And  manhood's  dark  and  tossing  waves, 
And  youth's  smooth  ocean,  smiling  to  betray. 
Beyond  the  glassy  gulfs  we  flee 
Of  shadow-peopled  infancy, 
Through  death  and  birth  to  a  diviner  day." 

Permit  the  paradox — some  men  by  their  sin  open 
the  gateway  to  saintship.  Of  course,  that  is  not 
true  as  it  stands,  nothing  ever  is ;  but  I  will  illustrate 
it.  A  dear  friend  of  mine,  a  minister,  speaking 
to  me  about  the  life  history  of  one  whom  I  knew 
almost  as  well  as  he,  told  me  about  a  blot  in  that 
particular  career.  He  said,  "  I  have  never  known 
a  man  of  greater  promise,  of  greater  natural  endow- 


204    THIRSTING  FOR  THE  WATER  OF  LIFE 

ments ;  but  he  sinned  one  sin  which  the  world  will 
not  forgive,  and  it  seemed  as  if  the  door  of  useful 
service  were  slammed  in  his  face.  I  think  he  has 
mourned  every  day  of  his  life  since  in  sackcloth  and 
ashes,  because  of  that  one  delirious  moment  when  he 
sinned  the  sin  which  the  world  will  not  forgive,  but 
perhaps  upon  which  God  looks  with  kinder  eye." 
He  added  that  the  following  question  was  put  to  him 
by  one  of  those  busybodies  who  try  to  keep  a  raw 
wound  open.  I  loathe  the  very  sight  of  them,  and 
I  think  I  am  fairly  tolerant ;  but  there  is  one  type 
of  character  I  cannot  endure,  and  that  is  the  man 
who  looks  for  the  worst  in  his  neighbour,  keeps 
open  the  guilty  record,  and  passes  on  the  story,  grim 
and  dirty  though  it  be.  He  came  to  my  friend  and 
said,  "  What  do  you  think  ?  You  know  So-and-So  ? 
Such-and-such  happened  in  that  year.  I  don't  think 
you  ought  to  be  with  him  so  much.  What  do  you 
think  about  it?"  "I  think,"  was  the  reply,  "that 
when  he  fell,  God,  by  the  exposure,  by  the  swiftness 
of  the  chastisement  that  followed,  gave  him  the 
opportunity  of  becoming  a  saint.  He  took  it." 
Yes,  brethren,  it  would  be  safest  to  take  that  way. 
We  cannot  go  back  to  Bethlehem  ;  we  do  not  want 
to,  but  we  can  go  forward,  past  Calvary  to  the 
eternal  hills,  and  drink  of  the  river  of  life.  And 
the  spirits  and  the  saints  say,  Come.  And  let  him 
that  heareth  say,  Come,  And  let  him  that  is  athirst 
come.  And  whosoever  will,  let  him  take  the  water 
of  life  freely. 


BURNING— UNCONSUMED 


No  one  particular  circumstance  brought  forth  the  following  sermon. 
Rather  it  was  suggested  by  a  series  of  accumulated  incidents ;  so 
many  people  came  or  wrote  to  me  concerning  the  belittling  effect 
of  petty  every  day  problems,  limited  horizons,  galling  domestic  mis- 
fits, and  uninspiring  vocations.  Meditating  how  best  to  help  them, 
there  came  to  me  the  thought  that  the  source  of  disquiet  in  every 
instance  lay  in  failure  to  discover  the  light  of  God  in  the  common 
things  of  life.  To  grapple  with  even  the  most  ordinary  problems 
of  existence  a  man  must  idealise  his  real.  He  who  has  eyes  to  see 
may  behold  what  Moses  saw — the  splendour  of  God  in  the  wayside 
task.  It  may  not  be  out  of  place  to  state  that  God  greatly  blessed 
this  sermon  in  helping  many  hearers  to  see  amid  their  daily  tasks 
the  "  light  that  never  was  on  sea  or  land." 


XII 


"And  the  angel  of  the  Lord  appeared  unto  him  in  a  flame  of  fire  out 
of  the  midst  of  a  bush  ;  and  he  looked,  and,  behold,  the  bush  burned  with 
fire,  and  the  bush  was  not  consumed." — EXODUS  iii.  2. 

THE  event  to  which  our  text  alludes  is  one  of  the 
greatest  which  has  ever  taken  place  in  the  history 
of  mankind,  although  it  seems  so  humble  and  so 
little  noteworthy  in  itself.  By  this  I  mean  that  its 
effects,  in  accumulating  sequence,  have  been  pro- 
foundly significant  and  tremendous.  No  one  requires 
to  ask  why.  There  are  a  few  things  in  history  upon 
which  all  civilisation,  all  human  well-being,  all 
possibility  of  moral  advance,  appear  to  turn,  and 
this  is  one  of  them.  It  is  no  exaggeration  to  say 
that  what  we  reverence  most  in  our  life  to-day,  the 
things  by  which  we  live  and  for  which  we  would 
die,  were  locked  up  with  Moses  at  Horeb  on  the 
day  about  which  we  have  been  reading.  I  am 
not  inclined  to  dispute  about  the  historicity  of 
Moses  and  his  work  for  Israel,  and  the  account 
of  himself  that  he  has  put  into  these  pages,  nor, 
indeed,  whether  he  wrote  them  at  all.  The  fact 
remains  that  there  is  just  as  much  evidence  for  the 
historicity  of  Moses  as  there  is  for  the  historicity  of 
Justinian,  and  we  have  good  reason  to  believe  that 

ao; 


208  BURNING— UNCONSUMED 

the  Jewish  leader  placed  his  mark  deeper  into  the 
history  of  mankind  than  did  the  Roman  Emperor. 
Let  us  try  to  understand  how  Moses  came  to  be  at 
Horeb,  and  what  it  was  he  saw.  We  cannot  under- 
stand it  without  following  in  some  detail  the  account 
of  his  life  as  it  is  given  in  this  book. 

The  child  of  an  enslaved  people,  his  life  saved  by 
the  devotion  of  a  mother  and  sister,  who  hid  him  in 
the  water  in  which  babes  of  his  own  age  and  race 
had  been  thrown  to  be  drowned :  discovered  by  the 
daughter  of  the  great  King  himself:  brought  up  as 
a  favourite  at  Court :  learned  in  all  the  wisdom  of 
the  Egyptians :  regarded  as  the  son  of  Pharaoh's 
daughter  —  here  was  a  gentleman  by  training, 
outlook,  environment,  everything  that  the  high 
civilisation  of  Egypt  could  give  him  at  that  day. 
But  when  he  came  to  mature  years  he  made  a 
discovery.  Those  who  had  given  him  birth,  those 
of  his  own  kith  and  kin,  the  race  in  which  he  could 
discern  his  own  lineaments,  were  lying  under  the 
oppressor's  heel.  The  cry  of  Israel  was  going  up 
continually  to  a  seemingly  deaf  God.  The  lash  of 
the  taskmaster  was  present  with  them  in  all  their 
daily  toil,  and  their  woe  was  an  accumulating  totality 
which  Moses  could  not  contemplate  unmoved.  So, 
as  the  writer  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  tells  us, 
the  hour  came  when  this  man — for  he  was  a  man — 
"refused  to  be  called  the  son  of  Pharaoh's 
daughter."  He  belonged  to  the  oppressed  people, 
and  with  his  own  people  he  took  his  stand.  He 


BURNING— UNCONSUMED          209 

did  more  than  that.  He  had  not  been  reared  a 
slave,  and,  therefore,  he  was  not  able  to  behold 
without  an  attempt  to  remove  it  the  oppression  of 
those  he  loved.  He  slew  an  Egyptian  to  save  a 
Hebrew,  and  then  fled  for  his  life. 

How  many  years  Moses  spent  in  the  wilderness 
we  do  not  know ;  half  a  life-time  it  must  have  been. 
He  was  not  a  young  man  on  the  day  of  this  vision 
which  we  read  of  in  Exodus  iii.,  but  we  may 
understand  that  all  this  time,  away  from  the  scenes 
of  his  youth,  he  had  been  brooding  upon  the  wrongs 
of  his  own  people,  and  wondering  how  he  might 
save  them.  He  had  heard  of  Israel's  God,  because 
he  was  learned  in  all  the  wisdom  of  the  Egyptians. 
Israel  did  not  know  as  much  about  Jehovah,  perhaps, 
as  he  did ;  they  had  forgotten  their  Lord.  Not  so 
Moses.  On  this  particular  day,  as  he  was  leading 
his  flock  towards  Horeb,  it  seems  to  him  as  though 
Israel's  God  has  come  to  him,  and  spoken  with  him, 
and  he  hears  the  mandate  from  heaven :  "  Go  back ! 
save  your  people ;  lead  them  forth  from  the  land  of 
Egypt,  and  out  of  the  house  of  bondage."  He 
questioned  within  himself  as  to  whether  he  had  seen 
rightly  and  heard  truly.  "Who  am  I? — a  poor 
shepherd  of  the  wilderness,  an  exile,  unprotected, 
unknown.  Why,  the  people  of  Israel  themselves 
will  have  forgotten  me.  Why  should  I  heed  ?  This 
may  be  an  hallucination,  and  the  voice  itself  the 
voice  of  my  own  consciousness :  who  am  I  to  effect 
this  great  deliverance  ? "  But  the  vision  is  still 

o 


2io          BURNING— UNCONSUMED 

there,  and  the  voice  he  still  hears,  and  presently, 
unquestioning,  he  obeys ;  and  history,  as  I  say,  came 
to  one  of  its  turning-points  as  Moses  moved  back  to 
the  land  of  Egypt,  whence  he  had  fled.  He  goes 
to  make  a  nation ;  he  goes  to  revive,  and,  in  a  sense, 
to  found,  a  religion  ;  he  goes — now  we  are  looking 
a  long  way — that  Britons  might  be  born,  that  this 
congregation  might  worship  here,  that  we  should 
take  upon  our  lips  the  name  of  Jesus.  Such  it  was 
took  place  in  that  far-off  day. 

Now,  I  have  no  mind  to  say  a  single  word  which 
would  rob  this  theme  of  any  of  its  grandeur;  my 
aim  would  rather  be  to  help  you  to  behold  it  in 
greater  fulness.  I  am  not  sure  that  many  of  us  are 
thinking  of  it  rightly  now.  I  can  remember,  for 
instance,  as  a  child,  as  doubtless  many  of  you  can, 
when  an  illustrated  book  of  Scripture  stories  was 
put  into  my  hands  ;  and  I  have  fond  recollections  of 
that  book,  for  I  spent  many  happy  hours  over  it.  In 
it  an  attempt  was  made,  in  rough,  inartistic  fashion, 
to  portray  what  Moses  saw  in  the  desert  near  to 
Horeb.  A  little  shrub  not  much  bigger  than  a  goose- 
berry-bush was  on  fire ;  in  the  midst  of  it  stood  a 
shadowy  form  ;  before  it  knelt  Moses,  taking  off 
his  sandals.  Looking  back  now,  I  can  see  a  little 
the  absurdity  of  the  suggestion  of  the  immature 
artist.  But  are  you  quite  sure  that  you  see  any 
farther  into  the  mystery  even  now  than  the  artist 
of  my  youth-time  saw  ?  Let  us  see  whether  some- 
one else  has  not.  I  have  in  my  hands  an  excellent 


BURNING— UNCONSUMED          2 1 1 

and  suggestive  little  book,  "  The  Education  of 
Christ,"  by  Professor  Ramsay,  of  the  University  of 
Aberdeen.  The  purpose  of  the  book  is  to  show 
that  even  Jesus  must  have  been  influenced  in  youth 
by  the  environment  in  which  He  was  placed,  to  an 
enormous  degree,  and  not  least  in  that  environment 
was  the  splendour,  the  magnificence  of  the  scenery 
of  the  historic  neighbourhood  in  which  that  youth 
was  spent.  On  the  mountain  sides  where  Jesus 
climbed,  Moses  or  the  people  of  Moses  themselves 
had  stood ;  there  had  taken  place  some  of  the  most 
famous  events  in  the  history  of  Israel.  It  was  im- 
possible, thinks  Professor  Ramsay,  but  that  the  very 
atmosphere  of  it  all,  the  suggestions  of  it,  the  radiat- 
ing influences  thereof  passed  into  the  mind,  the  heart, 
and  the  very  fibre  of  the  mental  constitution  of  Jesus 
of  Nazareth.  In  working  out  this  thesis,  the  Pro- 
fessor has  a  chapter  on  what  he  calls,  "  The  Power 
of  the  Great  Plains,"  and  in  it  he  quotes  the  follow- 
ing from  a  novel  describing  the  American  prairie. 
It  is  the  experience  of  a  cow-boy. 

"  Two  days  ago  he  was  riding  back,  alone,  in  the  afternoon,  from 
an  unsuccessful  search  after  strayed  horses,  and  suddenly,  all  in  the 
lifting  of  a  hoof,  the  weird  prairies  had  gleamed  into  eerie  life, 
had  dropped  the  veil  and  spoken  to  him ;  while  the  breeze  stopped, 
and  the  sun  stood  still  for  a  flash  in  waiting  for  his  answer.  And 
he,  his  heart  in  a  grip  of  ice,  the  frozen  flesh  a-crawl  with  terror 
upon  his  loosened  bones,  white-lipped  and  wide-eyed  with  frantic 
fear,  uttered  a  yell  of  horror  as  he  dashed  the  spurs  into  his  panic- 
stricken  horse,  in  a  mad  endeavour  to  escape  from  the  Awful 
Presence  that  filled  all  earth  and  sky  from  edge  to  edge  of  vision. 


2 1 2          BURNING— UNCONSUMED 

Then,  almost  in  the  same  fashion,  the  unearthly  light  died  out  of 
the  dim  prairie,  the  veil  swept  across  into  place  again,  and  he 
managed  to  check  his  wild  flight  and  look  about  him.  It  was  as 
if  his  spirit  stood  apart  from  him,  putting  questions  which  he  could 
not  answer,  and  demanding  judgment  upon  problems  which  he 
dare  not  reason  out.  Then  he  remembered  what  this  thing  was 
which  had  happened.  The  prairie  had  spoken  to  him,  as, 
sooner  or  later,  it  spoke  to  most  men  that  rode  it.  It  was  a 
something  well  known  amongst  them,  but  known  without  words, 
and,  as  by  a  subtle  instinct,  for  no  man  who  had  experienced  it 
ever  spoke  willingly  about  it  afterwards.  Only  the  man  would  be 
changed ;  some  began  to  be  more  reckless,  as  if  a  dumb  blasphemy 
rankled  hidden  in  their  breasts.  Others,  coming  with  greater 
strength,  perhaps,  to  the  ordeal,  became  quieter,  looking  squarely 
at  any  danger  as  they  faced  it,  but  continuing  ahead  as  though 
quietly  confident  that  nothing  happened  save  as  the  gods  ordained." 

That  is  a  powerful  passage,  and  I  make  bold  to 
say  that  I  think  I  understand  something  of  what 
was  in  the  writer's  mind ;  I  think  I  may  venture  to 
affirm  that  some  of  you  do  also.  There  are  at  least 
two  experiences  in  my  life  in  which  I  can  remember 
something  similar.  One  was  on  this  very  American 
prairie,  near  to  the  Colorado  mountains.  I  and  my 
companion  were  alone  in  the  observation  car  of  an 
American  railway  train,  riding  away  from  the  moun- 
tains, which  rose  like  a  craggy  wall  in  the  distance. 
There  came  on  such  a  thunderstorm  as  we  seldom 
or  never  see  in  Britain.  There,  before  us,  on 
the  further  side  of  the  long  stretch  of  prairie, 
was  this  spur  of  the  Rocky  mountains,  Pike's 
Peak,  towering  above  the  rest.  The  great  gorges 
seemed  to  be  filled  with  flame,  and  round  the  top  of 


BURNING— UNCONSUMED          2 1 3 

that  mountain  peak  the  lightning  flamed  like  a 
crown  of  fiery  thorns,  every  now  and  then  thrusting 
down  on  to  the  prairie  itself  a  sheet  of  flame — an 
avalanche,  as  it  seemed,  relentless,  irresistible,  making 
us  to  feel  how  puny  we  were,  how  great  were  the 
elementals  in  the  midst  of  which  we  had  been  thrust. 
There  was  nothing  common  there ;  the  prairie  was 
just  as  it  had  been  the  day  before,  only  that  it  was 
clothed  with  a  new  and  sudden  splendour,  hidden  in 
the  heavens  until  that  moment  of  vision.  You  will 
hardly  need  to  be  told  that  the  effect  upon  us  was  a 
solemnising  one ;  our  leading  thought  was  of  the 
splendour  of  God. 

My  other  experience  was  in  South  Africa.  We 
were  climbing  in  the  night,  also  in  a  railway  train, 
from  the  level  plain  around  Cape  Town  up  to  that 
great  table-land  which  is  known  as  the  Karoo.  We 
seemed  as  though  we  had  just  reached  the  top  when 
morning  dawned.  I  drew  aside  the  blind  of  my 
sleeping-carriage  and  looked  out.  There,  stretching 
around  us  in  every  direction  for  hundreds  of  miles, 
was  the  flat  plain  of  the  veldt,  studded  with  little 
bushes  like  the  acacia  that  Moses  saw,  in  the  far 
distance  rising  the  unclothed  crags  with  the  flat 
tops  so  characteristic  of  South  Africa.  But  there 
was  this  addition.  Not  only  was  the  solitude  broken, 
but  it  was  broken  by  a  sudden  splendour.  The 
morning  sun  touched  every  thing  into  glory.  You 
who  live  in  Britain  have  little  or  no  idea  of  the  vivid- 
ness of  colour  on  these  vast  plains.  The  very  rocks 


2i4  BURNING— UNCONSUMED 

were  sporting  crimson,  and  all  the  little  shrubs  were 
tinted  with  gold.  It  was  a  never-to-be-forgotten 
sight.  Once  again  we  fell  silent ;  there  was  nothing 
to  be  said ;  we  were  in  the  presence  of  the  real — it 
seemed  as  if  all  spake  of  the  Eternal.  Granted,  we 
bring  something  to  the  vision  ;  it  might  be  possible 
for  a  man  to  herd  cattle  in  the  South  African  bush 
and  never  to  see  its  glory  ;  it  might  be  possible  for 
a  man  to  climb  the  craggy  sides  of  Pike's  Peak  and 
never  again  see  the  splendour  of  the  moment  I  have 
described.  The  one  grand  message  which  our  text 
contains  for  us  resides  in  this  :  Moses  saw  something 
that  day  which  he  was  fitted  to  see.  We  understand 
now  something  of  what  it  was.  Our  text  says  really, 
not  "  a  bush,"  but  "  the  bush."  He  did  not  see  a 
flaming  gooseberry- bush,  as  it  were;  the  whole 
landscape  was  lit  up  with  the  glory  of  the  Lord  upon 
whose  name  he  had  been  brooding.  The  past  history 
of  his  people  fired  him  as  he  thought  that  the  God 
of  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob  was  not  dead  but 
alive ;  he  felt  his  heart  thrill  and  quiver.  There  was 
something  for  him  to  do  ;  God  was  speaking,  God 
was  calling.  He  questioned  with  himself  no  longer  ; 
he  turned  in  obedience  to  the  heavenly  vision  granted 
in  the  desert. 

The  value  of  our  text  for  you  and  me  resides  in 
the  similarity  of  our  experience  with  that  of  the 
great  prophet.  The  divine  is  never  absent  from  the 
soul  of  him  who  has  eyes  to  see  and  a  heart  to  feel 
the  presence  of  the  Eternal  Real ;  every  common  bush 


BURNING— UNCONSUMED          2 1 5 

is  afire  with  God,  and  every  place  is  holy  ground. 
The  flame,  the  very  flame  that  Moses  saw  in  the 
desert  at  Horeb,  is  burning  still  and  unconsumed. 

The  world  is  full  of  God,  and  not  only  so,  but 
God  calls  His  master  men  by  the  voice  that  speaks 
from  the  flame.  A  holy  enthusiasm  can  see  and 
hear  what  is  hidden  from  selfishness  and  sin. 

"  Oh,  we're  sunk  enough  here,  God  knows ! 

But  not  quite  so  sunk  that  moments, 
Sure,  tho'  seldom,  are  denied  us, 

When  the  spirit's  true  endowments 
Stand  out  plainly  from  its  false  ones, 

And  apprise  it,  if  pursuing 
Or  the  right  way  or  the  wrong  way, 

To  its  triumph  or  undoing. 

**  There  are  flashes  struck  from  midnights, 

There  are  fire-flames  noondays  kindle, 
Whereby  piled-up  honours  perish, 

Whereby  swollen  ambitions  dwindle  ; 
While  just  this  or  that  poor  impulse, 

Which  for  once  had  played  unstifled, 
Seems  the  sole  work  of  a  life-time 

That  away  the  rest  have  trifled." 

Yes,  His  holy  flame  for  ever  burns.  There  is  nothing 

common  or  unclean,  for  we  see  shining  upon  it  the 

light  divine  ;  and  never  do  you  see  that  light  shining 

— the  light  that  never  was  on  sea  or  land — but  from 

the  midst  of  the  flame  there  comes  the  call  of  God. 

I  think  I  know  my  congregation  pretty  well ;  it  is 
like  any  other  congregation  in  that  it  contains  people 
of  diverse  yet  similar  experiences,  now  of  sorrow, 


216  BURNING— UNCONSUMED 

now  of  joy,  all  of  limitation — limitation  which  we 
seek  at  our  best  moments  to  transcend.  The 
people  to  whom  I  am  speaking  are  for  the  most 
part  trained  in  the  midst  of  petty  ideas ;  but 
one  and  all  of  you  are  capable  of  wonderful 
things.  There  are  here  frivolous  people,  selfish 
people,  worldly  people,  people  who  hardly  ever 
pause  to  put  two  serious  thoughts  together.  On 
the  other  hand,  there  are  people  here  who  have 
been  stricken  down  by  sorrow,  who  know  the 
shadow  as  well  as  the  sunshine,  and  far  more  of  the 
shadow  than  of  the  shining.  All  of  us,  however, 
have  our  best  moments,  and  in  those  moments  we 
would,  if  we  could,  get  past  the  limitation  and  into 
the  glory  and  live  worthier.  Do  I  say  wrong  if  I 
repeat,  you  are  by  virtue  of  those  moments  capable 
of  wonderful  things  ?  The  most  commonplace,  the 
most  selfish,  the  most  worldly-minded,  might  be 
changed,  if  he  only  saw  in  the  desert  what  Moses 
saw,  and  heard  on  the  plain  the  voice  of  God. 
Many  times  have  I  seen  on  the  face  of  a  common- 
place man  something  that  kindled  into  power. 
Have  you  not  seen  it?  What  is  the  cause  of  it? 
I  take  it  that  it  is  but  the  reflection  of  the  vision 
that  was  seen  at  Horeb.  It  is  when  God  speaks  to 
a  man's  innermost  being,  when  God  has  reached 
what  is  most  like  Himself  in  our  nature,  and  we  have 
responded,  and  heart  and  mind  and  countenance 
light  up  with  it,  that  people  cease  to  think  of  us  as 
commonplace.  Of  that  shining,  which  is  as  the  glory 


BURNING— UNCONSUMED          2 1 7 

of  the  Shekinah  we  may  know  nothing  ourselves ; 
like  Moses,  we  may  not  know  that  our  face  shines. 

"  We  are  the  children  of  splendour  of  flame, 

Of  shuddering  also,  and  tears  : 

Magnificent  out  of  the  dust  we  came, 

And  abject  from  the  spheres." 

God  is  not  far  from  any  one  of  us.  I  wish  to 
particularise  by  choosing,  as  it  were,  two  people 
from  the  congregation  and  speaking  directly  to 
them.  It  may  strike  you  as  odd  that  the  first  I 
choose  is  a  woman.  "Speaking  about  the  great 
Law-giver  of  Israel,  and  then  in  the  same  breath 
comparing  his  experience  and  applying  it  to  that  of 
a  woman,  surely  you  have  begun  at  the  wrong  end 
of  things!"  Not  at  all.  I  take  the  life  of  a 
woman  for  this  reason.  For  the  most  part,  in  this 
land  of  ours — for  we  have  not  yet  learned  to  do 
things  right — the  life  of  a  woman  is  narrower  and 
meaner  than  the  life  of  a  man — man's  fault  mostly, 
but  there  it  is.  I  doubt  not  that  in  this  congrega- 
tion this  morning  there  sits  some  woman  full  of 
possibilities  for  good,  who  came  in  here  sad  and 
heavy-hearted  indeed.  She  has  been  beating  her 
wings  against  the  cage  all  her  life  ;  things  have 
never  come  right  to  her,  and  she  has  felt,  and  she  is 
right  in  feeling,  that  she  was  made  for  better  than 
anything  yet  she  has  ever  chanced  to  live.  Even 
when  marriage  came,  it  may  be,  it  was  not  liberty. 
Your  life  is  spent  amongst  the  humdrum,  the 
commonplace,  even  the  sordid ;  no  liberty  for  the 


2 1 8  BURNING— UNCONSUMED 

soul.  The  things  you  once  saw,  as  it  were,  on  the 
cliff-tops  of  the  morning  you  have  had  to  try  to 
forget,  and  yet  you  cannot  forget ;  disappointment 
and  heart-break  have  done  their  work.  You  entered 
the  house  of  God  to-day  in  the  faint  hope  that  some 
word  might  come  to  you,  as  it  were,  from  the  lips 
of  God  that  should  be  somewhat  of  a  compensation 
and  a  solace.  Have  I  described  your  life  aright? 
Well,  now,  listen  to  me.  Take  care  what  you  seek 
when  you  come  here  to  call  upon  the  name  of  Jesus. 
Moses  would  have  understood  Jesus  ;  that  was  why, 
and  it  was  a  very  felicitous  thing,  Peter  saw  him 
standing  beside  Him  on  the  mount  of  vision. 
Moses  would  have  understood ;  perhaps  you  would 
not.  Self-pity  is  the  wrong  mood  in  which  to  come 
near  Calvary.  The  thought  of  escaping  from  things 
that  hinder,  of  running  away  from  the  duty  that 
seems  to  be  cramping  and  repellent,  getting  peace 
by  cessation  of  strife,  is  not  the  right  thought  to 
have  when  one  comes  into  the  presence  of  Jesus. 
Mind  you,  you  are  perfectly  right  when  you  feel 
that  you  are  entitled  to  the  satisfaction  and  the 
peace  that  you  have  never  yet  had.  You  are 
perfectly  wrong  if  you  feel  that  coming  to  Jesus 
means,  as  it  were,  a  letting  you  off  the  things  against 
which  your  soul  is  chafing.  It  will  be  quite  the 
other  way.  The  peace  will  come  and  the  satisfac- 
tion be  yours,  but  it  will  be  when  you  have  trampled 
down  the  lower  nature  and  thrust  it  beneath  you  in 
the  energies  of  your  soul.  God  is  speaking  to  you 


BURNING— UNCONSUMED          219 

out  of  the  flame,  but  the  message  is :  Back  to 
Egypt,  to  the  people  that  will  not  understand,  to  the 
people  that  will  cry  for  the  fleshpots  when  you 
have  led  them  out ;  back  to  the  sordid,  narrow, 
commonplace ;  but  see  it  in  the  light  of  Horeb,  in 
all  the  splendour  of  God.  Some  women  have  done 
it  who  were  as  little  likely  as  you  are  ever  to  see 
such  a  vision  as  that  which  Moses  saw. 

I  brought  into  the  pulpit  with  me  this  morning 
another  book,  from  which  I  venture  to  quote. 
Most  of  us  are  familiar  to  some  extent,  at  any  rate, 
with  the  writings  of  Mark  Rutherford.  They  are 
especially  pleasing  to  me  because  they  treat  of 
common  life  and  of  very  ordinary  people.  He  does 
not  idealise  the  characters  of  the  people,  but  it 
seems  as  if  he  could  turn  on  to  them  something  of 
the  light  that  shone  into  the  desert  of  Horeb.  He 
tells  us,  in  that  part  of  his  Autobiography  which  he 
calls  Mark  Rutherford's  Deliverance,  of  the  dislike 
he  felt  for  his  little  stepdaughter  Marie.  He  could 
never  understand  the  child.  She  was  growing  into 
womanhood  without  the  barrier  having  once  dis- 
appeared between  her  and  him,  until  one  day  sorrow 
came  to  that  home — bewildering,  crushing,  over- 
whelming sorrow — and  he  found  he  was  unable  to 
face  it.  In  that  mood,  helpless,  the  man  stood ; 
forward  came  the  child. 

"  What  a  change  came  over  that  child  !  I  was  amazed  at  her. 
All  at  once  she  seemed  to  have  found  what  she  was  born  to  do. 
The  key  had  been  discovered  which  unlocked  and  revealed  what 


2  20          BURNIN  G— UNCONSUMED 

there  was  in  her,  of  which  hitherto  I  had  been  altogether  unaware. 
.  .  .  Faculties  unsuspected  grew  almost  to  full  height  in  a  single 
day.  ...  I  remember  once  going  to  her  cot  in  the  night,  as  she 
lay  asleep,  and  almost  breaking  my  heart  over  her  with  remorse 
and  thankfulness ;  remorse  that  I,  with  blundering  stupidity,  had 
judged  her  so  superficially,  and  thankfulness  that  it  had  pleased 
God  to  present  to  me  so  much  of  His  own  divinest  grace.  .  .  . 
My  love  to  Marie  was  love  of  God  Himself  as  He  is  ...  because 
that  revelation  had  clothed  itself  with  a  child's  form.  ...  I 
appeal,  moreover,  to  Jesus  Himself  for  justification.  I  had  seen 
that  kingdom  of  God  through  a  little  child." 

But  for  the  sordid,  but  for  the  commonplace,  and 
but  for  the  sorrow  that  shivered  both,  Mark 
Rutherford  had  never  seen  the  soul  of  that  woman- 
child.  So  it  may  be,  so  it  is,  with  any  woman,  with 
any  child,  with  any  man,  anywhere.  God  calls  from 
the  midst  of  the  flame.  He  never  summons  you  to 
what  you  are  unequal  to. 

"  He  who  bids  us  forward  go 
Cannot  fail  the  way  to  show." 

God  has  never  asked  what  you  cannot  give,  never 
set  a  task  you  cannot  perform.  Go  back  to  your 
life ;  go  back  to  the  questions  you  have  left,  but  go 
back  with  the  enthusiasm  of  old  Israel  and  this  leader 
of  men  to  nerve  you.  God  is  speaking  from  the 
midst  of  common  things,  but  He  is  speaking  from 
the  things  that  flame,  not  merely  from  the  things 
that  repel.  So  Jesus  calls  to  you,  and  will  have  the 
best  from  you.  Believe  that  the  best  is  yours  to  be 
and  to  do  and  to  give. 

Now  I  would  speak  of  a  man,  with  whom  some  of 


BURNING— UNCONSUMED          221 

you  think  I  ought  to  have  begun.  It  is  a  curious 
thing,  but  a  fact,  that  the  greater  number  of  the 
men  I  see  around  me  have  not  succeeded  in  life  ;  by 
which  I  mean  that  their  early  enthusiasms  have  not 
been  realised.  As  you  grow  toward  midlife  you 
feel  you  are  disappointed — you  are  nobody  in  par- 
ticular after  all ;  you  once  thought  you  might  be. 
As  you  have  learned  to  be  practical,  you  have 
learned  to  dethrone  your  ideal.  It  does  not  seem 
sensible  for  a  man  at  midlife  to  talk  as  he  would 
have  talked  when  he  stood  on  the  threshold  of 
manhood.  But  sometimes  you  wish  that  God  had 
given  you  to  do  something  worthy  of  that  which 
you  saw  in  your  highest  moments,  in  your  enthus- 
iastic days,  the  times  when  you  could  have  given 
yourself  for  an  ideal ;  but  there  is  no  stake  at  which 
to  be  burned,  there  is  only  a  desk  at  which  to 
be  chained  ;  there  is  no  big  heroic  thing  to  be  done  ; 
there  is  just  the  rent  to  get  and  the  little  mouths  to 
feed,  and  it  takes  all  your  time  and  all  your  manhood 
to  do  that.  You  feel  that  the  effect  of  your  en- 
vironment upon  you  is  to  shrivel  you,  and  make  you 
less  a  man  than  you  once  hoped  to  be.  You  have 
entered  the  house  of  God  with  some  hope  of  being 
made  contented  with  your  lot,  or  at  least  forgetting 
it  for  a  time.  You  are  quite  wrong  about  the  mood, 
and  you  are  quite  wrong  about  the  history.  The 
biggest  things  in  history  are  taking  place  out  of 
sight,  this  one  in  Horeb  amongst  the  rest.  You 
never  know  the  value  of  service  in  the  light  of 


222  BURNING— UNCONSUMED 

the  Eternal ;  never  call  a  human  deed  small  or  great 
until  you  stand  on  the  other  side  of  death  and  know 
as  you  are  known.     What  we  want  nowadays  is  the 
fighting   mystic.      Young  men,    as  a  rule,   are   not 
mystics,  though  they  think  they  are ;   it  is  the  older 
men  who  come  to  know  best  of  all  that  life  is  not 
what  it  seems,  let  alone  all  it  seems.     It  is  possible 
for  a  man  when  he  has  shed  his  ambitions  to  go 
back  to  the  simple,  holy  mood  of  childhood.     Moses 
was  not  a  young  man  when  he  saw  his  vision  and 
dreamed  his  dream ;  he  was  getting  to  be  an  old 
man,  and  it  is  an  old  man's  vision  that  we  are  talking 
about.     A  strong  man,  but  life  behind  him.     He 
fought  his  battle  in  Egypt,  and  then  thought  it  was 
over.    He  had  buried  the  man  he  slew,  and  fled  from 
the   people    he  would  have   saved.      Helpless  and 
baffled,  he  stood  alone  in  the  wilderness,  an  old  man, 
looking  up  and  looking  back.     To  him  God  came  in 
the  midst  of  the  scrub,  and  the  scrub  seemed  to  light 
up,  and  the  world  seemed  to  expand,  and  the  impos- 
sible became  possible,  and  the  unreal  shone  out  real, 
vivid,  true,  something  for  Moses  to  do  after  all.    He 
went  back  alone,  an  old  man,  and  alone  he  did  it, 
not  a  young  man.     God  granted  him  vision  of  the 
highest. 

You  pray,  "  Give  me  comfort !  "  I  will  ;  that  is 
comfort ;  it  is  not  comfort  on  the  low  level,  but  com- 
fort on  the  high  level.  "  Give  me  inspiration !  "  I 
will ;  it  is  here.  And  what  Moses  saw  in  the  flame 
and  heard  you  may  see  and  hear.  You  will  be  better 


BURNING— UNCONSUMED          223 

and  happier  for  obedience  to  what  you  see  in  your 
best  moments  alone  with  God.  Enter  into  the 
atonement  of  Christ  yourself,  become  part  of  it. 
Wherever  there  is  a  wrong  to  be  righted,  Christ  is 
at  work ;  wherever  there  is  a  great  deed  to  be  done, 
if  it  is  only  at  the  fireside  or  in  the  counting-house, 
there  is  the  call  of  God.  Will  you  be  one  of  God's 
master  men  ?  There  is  wondrous  sweetness  and 
power  in  the  very  thought.  It  needs  not  that  you 
should  be  great,  it  only  needs  that  you  should  be 
good. 

"  I  would  not  have  the  restless  will  that  hurries  to  and  fro, 
Seeking  for  some  great  thing  to  do  or  secret  thing  to  know ; 
I  would  be  treated  as  a  child,  and  guided  where  I  go." 

Behold,  then,  before  you  the  bush,  burning,  uncon- 
sumed.  Behold  the  splendour  of  God.  The  Lord 
has  come  to  your  little  world  like  a  flame  of  fire. 


SIN'S  SELF-DISCOVERY 


THE  following  sermon  contains  two  illustrations  from  real  life,  but 
neither  of  them  was  more  than  an  illustration.  The  purpose  of 
the  sermon  was  to  reach  one  or  two  people  whose  moral  history, 
had  I  been  at  liberty  to  state  it,  would  have  been  a  much  more 
startling  and  emphatic  testimony  than  anything  I  actually  did  say. 
The  truth  about  one  of  these  was  as  follows :  On  a  previous 
Thursday  a  friend  had  brought  to  me  a  story  concerning  a  family 
whom  he  expected  to  see  in  the  City  Temple  on  the  following 
Sunday  evening.  He  particularly  wished  me  not  to  describe  their 
circumstances  too  accurately  for  fear  he  or  someone  else  should  be 
suspected  of  having  made  me  acquainted  with  the  facts.  I  may 
remark  in  parenthesis  that  this  often  takes  place :  I  outline  a 
situation  and  state  a  moral  question  as  I  have  met  them  in  real 
life.  Forthwith  someone  writes  to  say  that  he  suspects  I  have 
heard  something  about  him — as  a  rule  I  have  never  heard  of  him 
before. 

This  particular  story  was  one  of  persistent,  calculated  cruelty 
on  the  part  of  an  individual  whose  public  character  stood  rather 
high.  If  ever  a  man  was  guilty  of  soul  murder  it  was  this 
eloquent  denouncer  of  other  people's  sins.  He  had  pronounced 
views  on  national  morality,  the  wrongs  of  the  Boers,  and  many 
other  things.  The  vileness  of  his  home  conduct  I  verily  believe 
he  never  stopped  to  think  about.  If  he  recognised  himself  in 
Nathan's  denunciation  he  was  careful  never  to  say  so.  Of  course 
he  was  not  the  only  one  present  whom  it  was  sought  to  reach  by 
this  gospel  of  self-revelation. 


XIII 

"  And  Nathan  said  unto  David,  Thou  art  the  man." — 2  SAMUEL  xii.  7. 

IN  this  lurid  sentence  the  prophet  of  God  con- 
demned the  guilty  king  out  of  his  own  mouth.  It 
was  no  mild  utterance  this,  but  one  charged  with 
moral  passion  and  righteous  anger.  The  circum- 
stances called  for  the  word,  too.  The  wretched 
man  upon  the  throne  now  saw,  and  for  the  first 
time,  what  his  sin  really  was.  No  more  dastardly 
act  had  ever  stained  David's  life.  It  was  the 
blackest  of  his  reign— I  mean  the  abduction  of  the 
wife  of  Uriah  and  the  murder  of  her  husband.  It 
was  guilt  calculated  upon  and  persisted  in,  guilt 
covered  up  even  in  David's  own  mind  by  sophistry 
and  self-excuse.  Now  comes  the  moment  of  revela- 
tion, when  the  true  state  of  things  is  declared  to 
David's  consciousness  just  as  it  had  long  ago  been 
declared  subconsciously,  though  he  never  dared  to 
face  the  truth. 

It  can  hardly  be  necessary  that  I  should  recount 
the  circumstances.  The  king  of  Israel  cast  his 
lustful  eyes  upon  another  man's  wife.  In  his  un- 
scrupulousness  he  planned  the  destruction  of  him 
who  stood  between  his  lust  and  its  gratification. 
Uriah  must  be  got  out  of  the  way,  and  in  a  very 


228  SIN'S  SELF-DISCOVERY 

base  and  wicked  fashion  the  deed  was  done.  Uriah 
was  placed  in  the  front  of  the  fighting  line  and  died 
with  his  face  to  the  foe.  The  irony  of  the  situa- 
tion is  that  he  died  as  an  Israelitish  soldier  fighting 
for  his  country,  and  not  improbably  with  the  name 
of  his  king  upon  his  lips  and  enthusiasm  for  David 
in  his  heart,  charging  the  foe  for  the  man  who  was 
his  murderer.  Doubtless  David  covered  up  the  fact, 
which  Uriah  himself  never  knew,  by  saying  to  him- 
self, "This  man  died  a  worthy  death — why  not  he 
as  well  as  any  other  soldier  ?  I  did  not  slay  him,  the 
enemy  slew  him.  In  all  probability  he  would  not 
have  chosen  another  death  if  he  were  a  true  soldier 
and  patriot.  I  am  not  guilty ;  therefore  now  what 
more  natural  than  that  I  without  reproach  should 
take  unto  me  Uriah's  wife?" 

Probably  this  was  the  way  that  David  accounted 
for  the  deed  to  himself.  Not  so  the  prophet  of  the 
Lord.  Israel  was  fortunate  in  that  she  possessed, 
and  never  was  entirely  without,  one  or  two  intrepid, 
fearless  men  of  God,  men  of  the  pattern  and  stamp 
of  Elijah,  and  such  a  one  was  Nathan. 

Imagine  the  scene  that  is  hinted  at  in  this  chapter 
rather  than  described.  David,  royal  David,  sits 
upon  the  throne  in  the  day  of  his  splendour,  sur- 
rounded by  his  mighty  men,  and  the  plain-garbed 
figure  of  the  prophet  of  God  appears  on  the  scene. 
He  is  made  welcome — why  should  it  not  be  so  ? 
This  victorious  king  is  the  chosen  of  the  Lord. 
What  message  can  Nathan  have  to  bring  but  a 


SIN'S  SELF-DISCOVERY  229 

message  of  good?  The  court  is  hushed  to  listen. 
The  wisdom  and  righteousness  of  David  respond 
eagerly  to  the  demand  of  the  prophet.  Thus 
and  such  the  rich  man  has  done.  Thus  and  such 
vengeance  is  called  for,  retribution  to  be  awarded. 
What  saith  the  king  ?  "  And  David's  anger  was 
greatly  kindled  against  the  man;  and  he  said  to 
Nathan,  As  the  Lord  liveth  (you  see  David  is  on 
the  side  of  the  Lord)  the  man  that  hath  done  this 
thing  shall  surely  die.  (David  is  the  sword  of 
the  Lord.)  And  he  shall  restore  the  lamb  fourfold, 
because  he  did  this  thing  and  because  he  had  no 
pity." 

Thus  he  voices  his  own  condemnation,  thus  he 
seals  his  own  doom.  The  court  is  silent,  waiting 
for  the  prophet  to  speak.  One  sentence  it  is  which 
issues  from  his  lips,  how  terrible,  only  David  knew, 
though  the  awe-stricken  listeners  must  have  felt, 
too,  something  of  the  impact  of  the  tremendous 
utterance,  "Thou  art  the  man." 

I  cannot  imagine  that  Nathan  said  these  words 
with  a  shout.  Rather  he  spoke  them  more  quietly 
than  David  had  blazed  forth  his  ready  anger. 
David  on  the  seat  of  judgment  passing  sentence 
upon  himself  may  speak  eagerly  and  feverishly 
on  the  side  of  righteousness,  "  This  man  shall 
surely  die."  Said  Nathan  (he  does  not  need  to 
shriek):  "Thou  art  the  man — thou  !  " 

Self-deception  is  never  very  difficult.  Men  are 
curiously  averse  to  calling  things  by  the  right  name. 


230  SIN'S  SELF-DISCOVERY 

There  is  no  kind  of  hypocrisy  so  subtle  and  so 
dangerous  as  the  hypocrisy  which  is  hypocrite  to 
itself  and  will  not  acknowledge  its  own  presence. 
We  can  see  transgression  very  plainly  in  the  lives  of 
others,  but  we  are,  as  a  rule,  unwilling  to  face  the 
truth  concerning  ourselves.  But  that  truth  will  out, 
and  in  the  light  of  God  we  have  to  face  it  whether 
we  will  or  no.  "Be  sure  your  sin  will  find  you 
out." 

Such  was  the  note  of  my  theme  this  morning. 
For  the  benefit  of  those  who  were  not  present  I 
will  just  give  one  point  in  the  message.  It  was 
this  : — Oftentimes  God  finds  a  way  into  a  man's 
heart  by  breaking  him,  as  it  were,  upon  the  wheel 
of  misfortune.  To  some  natures,  at  any  rate,  sorrow 
is  the  only  means,  the  only  instrument  whereby 
God  can  make  the  highest  felt.  A  man  suffers 
what  ostensibly  he  does  not  deserve,  something 
unjust,  something  so  far  as  the  world  is  concerned 
utterly  irremediable.  That  something  must  be  God's 
message  to  him,  God's  means  of  uncovering  the 
soul  that  He  may  address  Himself  thereto. 

Two  men  came  into  the  vestry  after  that  sermon 
this  morning.  One  followed  upon  the  heels  of  the 
other.  The  first  man,  a  gentleman  in  appearance, 
told  me  this  striking  story — shall  I  say  gave  me  this 
striking  piece  of  autobiography  ?  "  I  am  one  man 
you  were  talking  about  this  morning.  I  have  suffered 
seven  years'  penal  servitude  for  something  I  did  not 
do,  and  which  it  is  now  known  I  did  not  do.  You 


SIN'S  SELF-DISCOVERY  231 

can  read  the  circumstances  in  the  daily  papers. 
They  speak  of  making  me  amends.  Of  course  you 
know  nothing  can  ever  make  amends  for  the  seven 
best  years  of  my  life.  I  did  not  deserve,  from  one 
point  of  view,  as  you  rightly  said,  what  came  to  me. 
But  you  were  perfectly  right  in  what  you  have  said 
in  that  I  deserved  it  in  another  sense.  By  that  fiery 
discipline  God  woke  my  soul  to  life.  I  now  know 
that  the  things  which  we  can  see  and  touch,  the 
things  commonplace  and  everyday,  the  things  for 
which  we  spend  ourselves,  are  not  the  real,  are 
not  the  truest,  are  not  the  deepest,  are  not  all. 
They  are  only  the  gateway  into  the  eternal.  I 
have  found  God.  It  was  worth  the  seven  years." 

As  he  turned  to  go  out,  another  man  came  in, 
from  the  north  country,  also  a  gentleman,  a  man  of 
a  certain  education  and  standing  and  prosperity.  If 
he  be  here  to-night  he  will  not  mind,  I  am  sure, 
what  I  am  going  to  tell  you,  for  it  is  by  no  means 
uncommon.  He  came  to  remind  me  of  a  boy  whom 
years  ago  I  knew,  and  he  told  me  that  somewhere 
that  lad  is  in  London,  and  if  possible  he  would  that 
I  could  find  him,  or  if  he  ever  comes  to  me  that  I 
will  detain  him  with  a  message  of  love  from  his 
Lancashire  home.  He  said,  "  We  do  not  know 
where  he  is,  and  we  feel  that  the  truth  were 
perhaps  better  hidden  from  us."  The  boy  was 
educated  to  be  a  professional  man.  He  never  took 
his  degree.  His  parents  began  to  suspect,  long, 
long  before  he  left  home  for  good,  that  something 


232  SIN'S  SELF-DISCOVERY 

was  wrong.  Sympathy  ceased.  He  lived  his  life 
apart.  He  kept  away  from  the  ordinary,  simple 
family  altar  which  was  erected  every  day  in  that 
home.  His  fellowship  with  his  brothers  and  sisters, 
let  alone  with  his  father  and  mother,  was  severed. 
There  was  an  absence  of  frankness.  Something  or 
other  unaccountably  was  being  kept  back.  You 
see,  the  false  note  had  been  sounded,  the  evil  and 
hateful  something  had  crept  in,  there  was  an  element 
that  had  to  be  huddled  away  and  kept  out  of  sight. 
The  inevitable  hour  came.  He  could  no  longer  stay 
where  he  was.  That  home  is  mourning  to-day 
because  of  a  wandering  lad.  I  wonder  now  if  that 
young  man  could  change  places  with  the  ex-convict 
about  whom  I  have  spoken,  which  of  the  two  is  to 
be  the  more  pitied.  God  seems  to  have  treated  the 
one  I  named  first  far  more  sternly  than  he  treated 
the  other,  for  the  prison  walls  have  not  closed  upon 
this  lad  yet.  But  for  all  that  I  would  venture  to  say 
that  whereas  the  one  man  has  gone  out  with  a  con- 
sciousness of  self-respect,  with  a  confidence  in  the 
eternal  Tightness  of  things,  and  with  a  vision  of  the 
meaning  of  life  such  as  he  never  had  till  the  chastise- 
ment came,  this  other  man,  this  man  who  is  the 
cause  of  a  home  affliction  and  a  home  scattering  is 
in  hell,  that  is  where  he  is,  though  he  walks  the 
streets  of  London,  or  though  he  may  be  to-night  in 
the  house  of  the  strange  woman,  laughing  the 
loudest  among  his  companions.  That  man  is  in 
hell,  and  he  knows  it.  His  sin  has  found  him  out, 


SIN'S  SELF-DISCOVERY  233 

the  evil,  sinister  fate,  has  got  a  very  tight  grip.  It 
matters  little  what  the  circumstances  are.  Of  the 
two  he  is  the  one  to  be  pitied,  and  his  lot  is  the  one 
to  be  dreaded.  How  little  it  matters  what  a  man 
endures,  how  much  it  matters  what  a  man  is ! 
"  Thou  hast  set  our  iniquities  before  Thee,  our 
secret  sins  in  the  light  of  Thy  countenance."  If 
that  man  had  faced  years  ago  what  was  coming  and 
now  is,  if  he  had  had  the  moral  courage  to  turn 
right  round,  cost  what  it  might,  it  would  have  been 
better  for  him  than  what  is  true  of  him  now. 

There  are  many  present,  no  doubt,  who  can 
relate  similar  experiences  concerning  themselves  or 
their  loved  ones.  Out  of  a  congregation  as  large  as 
this  it  is  safe  to  say  perhaps  thousands,  two  thousand 
it  may  be,  have  known  or  passed  through  a  similar 
experience  to  the  one  I  have  touched  on.  Either 
you  or  that  lad  of  yours,  that  friend,  that  wife,  that 
husband,  began  to  live  a  life  apart  from  truth  and 
right.  Confidence  was  slipping  away,  some  secret 
weakness  was  unconfessed,  some  evil  entanglement 
was  holding  fast  the  soul  in  fetters.  If  only  the 
right  name  were  to  be  applied  to  the  life  that  some 
of  you  are  living  or  have  been  living,  or  the  nearest 
and  the  dearest  have  lived  or  do  live — if  the  right 
name  were  applied  what  would  it  be?  Oftentimes 
it  is  too  ugly  to  be  applied.  We  can  cheat  our- 
selves as  David  did,  that  because  the  world  knows 
nothing  and  because  there  is  a  euphemistic  word  to 
describe  a  foul  thing,  that  therefore  God  is  deceived 


234  SIN'S  SELF-DISCOVERY 

too.  He  is  not,  and  heaven  is  not.  The  world 
of  truth  interpenetrates  this,  the  world  of  glory 
is  not  a  hand  breadth  off.  You  cannot  hide  from 
the  eternal  right.  As  Arthur  Hugh  Clough  hath 
it  in  one  of  his  most  familiar  lines,  "  Listen  before 
I  die,  one  word.  In  old  times  you  called  me 
pleasure  ;  my  name  is  guilt."  What  a  dark  name, 
what  a  foul  name,  what  an  unpronounceable  shudder- 
ing word  you  would  have  to  apply  if  you  were 
honest,  some  of  you,  to  the  things  you  have  been 
and  the  things  you  have  done !  God,  you  see, 
applies  the  right  word  —  "  Thou  art  the  man." 
What  in  somebody  else  you  would  name  unmis- 
takably God  has  named  in  you.  Often  a  man's 
degeneration  is  clear  to  all  about  him  long  before 
it  is  so  to  himself.  He  is  ready  to  blame  anyone  in 
the  world  except  the  man  most  to  blame — himself; 
and  he  can  work  up  indignation  against  any  form  of 
evil  not  his  own.  I  have  known  men  who  could 
write  to  the  newspapers  most  eloquent  letters  of 
denunciation  concerning  some  public  wrong  or  some 
mistaken  international  policy.  If  these  very  men 
could  have  been  followed  to  the  fireside  you  would 
have  been  able  to  read  a  tale  of  misery  in  the  face 
of  their  dear  ones.  And  the  men  oftentimes  who 
shriek  the  loudest  at  the  delinquencies  of  some  who 
are  a  sign  for  every  man  to  point  at  dare  not  expose 
their  own  secret  lives,  the  tale  would  be  too  squalid 
and  too  shameful.  But,  dear  friends,  God's  moment 
comes,  the  dreadful  moment  of  disillusionment  for 


SIN'S  SELF-DISCOVERY  235 

every  soul  that  has  kept  away  from  the  truth.  It 
may  come  soon  or  it  may  come  late,  but  come  it 
surely  will.  "  Thou  art  the  man." 

Speaking  this  afternoon  to  Mr  Badger  about  this 
subject,  he  handed  me  some  lines  that,  curiously 
enough,  had  come  into  his  own  possession. 

*'  Though  no  mortal  e'er  accused  you, 
Though  no  witness  e'er  confused  you, 
Though  the  darkness  came  and  fell 
Over  even  deeds  of  hell. 

"  Though  no  sign  nor  any  token 
Spoke  of  one  commandment  broken. 
Though  the  world  should  praise  and  bless, 
And  love  add  the  fond  caress. 

«  Still  your  secret  sin  would  find  you, 
Pass  before  your  eyes  to  blind  you, 
Burn  your  heart  with  hidden  shame, 
Scar  your  cheek  with  guilty  flame. 

**  Sin  was  never  sinned  in  vain, 
It  could  always  count  its  slain, 
You  yourself  must  witness  be, 
To  your  own  soul's  treachery." 

In  God's  economy,  in  God's  moral  world,  the 
meaning  of  punishment  is  that  the  soul  is  compelled 
to  see  itself  as  it  is,  and  to  acknowledge  the  eternal 
justice.  Come  it  soon  or  come  it  late,  God's  verdict 
upon  sin  is  written  large  in  the  experience  of  the 
sinner. 

If,  my  friends,  I  were  to  quit  the  subject  here 
it  might  be  enough  for  some  of  us,  the  one  word 


236  SIN'S  SELF-DISCOVERY 

necessary  for  the  vindication  of  the  eternal  moral 
order.  But  it  would  not  be  enough  for  some  others. 
I  could  not  help  thinking,  as  I  spoke,  about  the 
wretched  man  who  never  needed  me  to  tell  him  a 
single  word  of  what  has  been  uttered  up  to  this 
point.  There  may  be  a  man  here  who  could  tell  it 
to  you  in  far  more  lurid  and  convincing  terms  than  I 
have  told  you,  because  he  has  been  living  it.  What 
must  such  a  man  have  been  thinking  as  I  have 
spoken?  Perhaps  he  maybe  feeling  something  of 
rising  indignation  against  the  speaker.  "  Where  is 
the  good  of  lacerating  an  open  wound  ?  Why 
remind  me  of  what  no  earthly  verdict  can  reverse  ? 
I  must  dree  my  own  weird,  I  have  made  my  bed  and 
on  it  I  must  lie."  A  man  can  grow  cynical,  self- 
contemptuous  and  world-hating  all  in  a  breath  by  the 
remembrance  of  a  fact  like  this. 

Well,  sir,  it  is  to  you  that  I  most  want  to  speak. 
You  know — those  at  least  who  know  me  know — 
that  I  do  not  trifle  with  the  facts  of  life  and  tell  you 
that  sin  is  done  with  as  soon  as  you  have  tossed  it 
in  the  air,  so  to  speak,  on  the  chance  that  it  may 
reach  the  ears  of  God  as  a  confession.  It  is  not  so. 
The  way  of  transgressors  is  hard,  but  it  is  hard 
because  of  the  mercy  of  God  that  is  behind.  "  There 
is  forgiveness  with  Thee,  that  Thou  mayest  be  feared 
when  Thou  judgest." 

I  was  reading  recently  in  one  of  Maurice  Maeter- 
linck's books,  I  think  the  last,  a  paragraph  some- 
to  this  effect.  Some  of  you  here  will  feel  that 


SIN'S  SELF-DISCOVERY  237 

what  Maeterlinck  has  to  say  about  certain  of  the 
deep  things  of  the  Gospel  is  hardly  worth  consider- 
ing, yet  you  may  be  wrong.  On  this  occasion,  at 
any  rate,  this  modern  mystic  reached  the  Gospel 
truth  by  a  roundabout  road.  This  is  what  he  says 
— 1  do  not  quote,  I  only  paraphrase — If  a  man  hath 
done  a  guilty  deed,  if  a  man  hath  been  betrayed  by 
himself,  dragged  down  by  evil  propensity,  and  hath 
the  courage  and  the  faith  to  rise  again,  the  day 
comes,  the  moment  is  his  when  he  can  say,  It  was 
not  I  that  did  it. 

Of  course  you  see  the  paradox  of  the  mystic. 
Yes,  but  it  was  a  truth  stated  in  paradox.  A  man 
may  so  rise  above  the  habitual  level  of  his  own 
character  that  deeds  are  forgotten.  It  is  not  so 
much  the  deeds  that  matter,  it  is  the  climate  of  the 
soul,  it  is  the  moral  atmosphere  in  which  you  live 
that  is  telling  out  the  truth.  A  man's  real  fall  often 
antedates  by  long  the  fall  that  the  world  can  see 
and  judge  him  by.  But,  look  you,  if  a  man  has 
risen  so  far  by  virtue  of  his  penitence  that  he 
reaches  the  heart  of  God;  so  exalting  himself  by 
true  humility  that  he  is  no  longer  capable  of  that 
old  sin,  it  is,  as  it  were,  blotted  out  of  the  book  of 
remembrance.  To  such  a  man  I  would  be  entitled 
to  say  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  of  Hosts,  "  Thou 
art  not  the  man,"  the  man  that  was,  but  another, 
redeemed,  purified,  made  holy  by  the  Spirit  of 
God. 

There  are  some  people  who  are  morbid  in  their 


238  SIN'S  SELF-DISCOVERY 

introspection  and  their  view  of  their  own  moral 
delinquencies.  To  such  people  I  would  speak  a 
word  of  warning.  Remorse  is  not  repentance. 
Morbidness  is  by  no  means  humility.  There  is 
another  way  and  a  higher.  If  there  be  one  man 
here  who  feels  that  his  life  is  blackened  by  his  own 
misdoing,  I  entreat  him  to  pause  and  consider  this 
mighty  truth.  It  is  impossible  for  you  to  contend 
with  God.  Once  you  have  realised  that  there  is  no 
longer  need  for  you  to  remain  in  the  prison-house. 
If  any  man  is  hopeless  concerning  the  past  I  call 
him  to  a  deeper  as  well  as  a  higher  life.  An  old 
mediaeval  mystic  once  wrote,  "In  every  man  there 
is  a  godly  will  which  never  consented  to  sin  nor 
ever  shall."  You  know  what  that  signifies.  It 
tells  you  that  the  deepest  self  in  every  man  is 
Christ.  What?  Yes,  I  mean  it.  Until  conscience 
is  dead  Christ  is  not  gone  from  the  soul  of  any  man, 
but  that  Christ  you  may  be  crucifying ;  and  as  the 
preacher  to-night  I  have  just  the  same  duty  as  the 
Roman  Governor  performed  in  an  earlier  day  when, 
half  cynically,  half  pityingly,  he  brought  out  the 
Christ  and  set  Him  before  the  mob,  "  Behold  the 
Man !  "  the  man  that  you  are  crucifying  in  your 
self-loathings,  in  your  self-despisings,  in  your  hatred 
of  the  world  and  its  temptations  and  its  delusions, 
crucifying  the  Christ  within  you  by  staying  down  in 
the  bondage  of  sin.  Greater  is  your  sin  in  the  re- 
jection of  the  redemption  of  the  Most  High,  it  may 
be,  than  the  sin  which  plunged  you  into  your  self- 


SIN'S  SELF-DISCOVERY  239 

despair.  Listen  to  the  voice  that  comes  from 
farthest  heaven,  "  I  will  blot  out  as  a  cloud  thy 
transgressions  and  as  a  thick  cloud  thy  sins." 
"Though  your  sins  be  as  scarlet,  they  shall  be 
white  as  snow ;  though  they  be  red  like  crimson, 
they  shall  be  as  wool."  There  is  a  great  mystery 
here  and  I  am  content  to  leave  it  so.  God  speaks 
through  the  voice  of  conscience,  the  self-accuser,  the 
one  that  no  man  can  escape,  no  man  can  avoid,  no 
man  can  delude.  "Thou  art  the  man."  Say,  then, 
to  the  Father,  "I  have  sinned  against  heaven  and 
before  Thee."  Then  hast  thou  found  thyself,  thou 
hast  come  back  to  God  ere  the  words  are  uttered, 
and  the  Father's  word  to  thee  is  this  word  of  for- 
giveness and  mercy  and  tender  love.  Rise,  thou 
child  of  the  holiest,  though  in  the  deepest  of  depths 
thou  hast  plunged  thyself  and  sunken  thy  soul,  for 
God  the  Father  pitieth  His  children,  God  the 
Saviour  redeemeth  His  own.  "Behold  the  Lamb 
of  God,  which  taketh  away  the  sin  of  the  world." 


A  CAKE  OF  BARLEY  BREAD 


Q 


IT  may  be  interesting  to  some  readers  to  know  that  the  indi- 
viduals for  whose  sake  this  sermon  was  preached  are  described  in 
the  application.  Moreover,  they  recognised  it,  and  came  to  tell 
me  so.  It  is  a  simple,  although  somewhat  exceptional  theme,  but 
I  never  remember  to  have  experienced  greater  blessing  both  in  and 
after  the  service.  This  was  God's  timely  word  for  a  number  of 
those  who  worshipped  with  us  that  morning. 


XIV 

"  Behold  I  dreamed  a  dream,  and,  lo,  a  cake  of  barley  bread  tumbled 
into  the  host  of  Midian,  and  came  unto  a  tent,  and  smote  it  that  it  fell." 
— JUDGES  vii.  13. 

THIS  is  a  somewhat  remarkable  text,  and  that  not 
merely  on  account  of  its  quaintness,  but  of  the  vast 
field  of  spiritual  suggestiveness  which  it  opens  to 
us.  The  phrase,  "  a  cake  of  barley  bread,"  may 
not  at  first  sight  appear  to  mean  much,  but  it  covers 
a  whole  chapter  in  a  brave  and  strenuous  life. 
Here  we  have  a  tiny  nation  oppressed  by  powerful 
neighbours.  They  are  not  a  great  people.  Al- 
though they  have  been  known  in  history  as  the 
Chosen  People,  they  are  few  in  number,  apparently 
are  weak  in  character,  they  have  just  fallen  under 
the  dominion  and  worship  of  the  obscene  god  Baal. 
Jehovah  appears  to  have  deserted  them.  They 
would  not  have  their  Father's  God,  so  He  has  left 
them  to  their  own.  They  have  been  reduced  to 
extremity.  They  have  been  maltreated  by  the 
oppressors,  and  at  this,  the  darkest  moment  in  the 
fortunes  of  Israel,  a  deliverer  arises,  not  from  among 
the  leaders  of  the  people,  nor  from  those  who  stand 
in  high  places,  but  as  has  often  been  the  case  in 
history,  from  the  lower  ranks  themselves. 

Gideon   is  the   hero   in   question,   a   man   of  the 


244       A  CAKE  OF  BARLEY  BREAD 

same  stature  and  quality  as  Wallace  and  William 
Tell.  He  begins  by  questioning  with  himself  how 
long  the  worship  of  Baal,  with  its  immoral,  de- 
grading and  obscene  rites,  was  to  be  tolerated  in 
Israel.  Someone  must  have  the  courage  to  speak 
and  to  do  something  more  than  speak,  someone 
must  have  the  intrepidity  to  act.  And  Gideon 
thinks  it  may  as  well  be  he  as  anyone  else.  So  one 
morning  credulous,  self-indulgent  Israel  rises  to  see 
the  god  Baal  hurled  from  his  pedestal  and  helpless 
to  avenge  the  affront.  Their  first  thought  is  to 
revenge  it  for  him.  They  would  have  slain  Gideon 
but  for  the  intervention  of  his  father.  "If  Baal  is 
injured,  and  if  Baal  is  worthy  to  be  worshipped,  let 
Baal,  and  Baal  alone,  revenge  the  injury.  Hold  ye 
your  peace."  So  Gideon  earned  the  name  of 
Jerubaal,  the  antagonist  of  this  hitherto  powerful 
deity.  His  next  step  is  to  consider  whether  Israel, 
won  back  to  the  purer  worship  of  Jehovah,  might 
not  be  delivered  from  the  sword  of  the  oppressor. 
Who  is  to  do  this?  The  Amalekites  and  the 
Midianites  are  as  the  sand  of  the  sea  for  multitude, 
and  Israel  but  a  handful,  and  a  handful  of  slaves  at 
that.  But,  his  resolution  once  taken,  this  man, 
questioning  within  himself,  arrives  at  the  conclusion 
that  he  himself  is  the  chosen  of  the  Lord  to  do  the 
work.  How  often  he  hesitates,  like  Moses  and  like 
most  of  the  Israelitish  prophets,  leaders,  captains, 
judges!  He  is  self-distrustful.  He  puts  the  Lord 
first  to  one  test  and  then  to  another.  He  is  not  free 


A  CAKE  OF  BARLEY  BREAD         245 

from  the  superstitions  of  his  time,  and  who  knows 
but  "there  are  more  things  in  heaven  and  earth 
than  are  dreamed  of  in  our  philosophy."  Even  the 
test  of  the  fleece  may  have  been  honoured  to  this 
man's  good  and  his  people's  salvation.  Finally,  with 
three  hundred  men  at  his  back  he  decided  to  strike 
the  first  blow. 

But  on  the  very  eve  of  the  conflict  he  hesitates 
once  more.  How  real  it  all  is !  because  it  was 
taking  place  within,  and  not  without  the  man,  this 
discussion  and  this  presentation  of  opposite  con- 
ditions. How  real  it  all  is !  He  goes  down  to 
listen  and  to  spy  within  the  camp  of  Midian  itself 
and  he  hears  one  man  tell  his  fellow  a  dream.  The 
dream  is  almost  in  the  words  of  our  text.  A  cake 
of  barley  bread  tumbles  into  the  camp  of  Midian, 
and  smites  a  tent,  and  it  falls  and  lies  ruined  before 
it.  Gideon  returns  without  a  word.  He  takes 
it  as  a  symbol,  a  sign  that  he,  the  chosen  of  the 
Lord,  is  already  victor  in  the  counsels  of  the  Most 
High,  and  his  decision  and  his  act  were  one  and  the 
same.  To  his  little  band  he  exclaims,  "  Arise,  the 
Lord  has  delivered  the  host  of  Midian  into  our  hand." 

Why  "  a  cake  of  barley  bread  ? "  Why  did 
this  hero  attach  so  much  importance  to  this  symbol  ? 
First,  it  was  the  symbol  of  poverty.  Israel  had 
been  reduced  to  this  coarse  fare,  and  was  not 
obtaining  enough  of  that.  Perhaps  the  enemy 
taunted  them  with  it.  This  was  all  they  had  left, 
the  food  of  the  beasts  of  the  field — "a  cake  of 


246        A  CAKE  OF  BARLEY  BREAD 

barley  bread."  It  was  the  symbol  of  weakness — 
the  cake  of  bread  against  the  tent  of  the  Midianit- 
ish  general.  It  was  the  symbol  of  obscurity — 
Gideon  himself  was  as  a  cake  of  barley  bread,  a 
labouring  man  called  to  be  the  instrument  of  God 
for  the  deliverance  of  his  country. 

Now  let  me  tell  you  why  I  think  this  piece  of 
human  history  is  so  interesting  and  helpful.  It  is 
because  what  is  here  related  took  place,  for  the 
most  part,  in  Gideon's  mind,  and  he  had  no  more 
to  help  him  to  a  decision  than  you  and  I  have  in 
similar  issues.  The  moment  you  bring  in  an  un- 
necessary supernaturalism,  that  moment  you  destroy 
the  value  of  any  biblical  narrative ;  you  push  away 
from  you  the  man  whose  life  ought  to  be  an  in- 
spiration for  you.  There  is  a  supernaturalism  in 
this  narrative  just  the  same  as  there  is  in  yours, 
of  the  same  kind,  and  perhaps  in  the  same  degree. 
I  am  not  one  of  those  who  try  to  read  out  of  every 
event  the  supernatural  element.  I  would  rather 
read  it  in  all  round.  God's  wonders  have  not 
stopped  since  Old  Testament  days,  and  there  is 
just  the  same  kind  of  supernaturalism  in  your  life 
and  mine  as  there  was  in  Gideon's  at  this  time. 

We  have  here  a  case  in  which  a  man  with 
nothing  to  aid  him  but  his  sense  of  God  and 
right,  essayed  a  seemingly  hopeless  task,  and  accom- 
plished it.  No  one  else  was  even  willing  to  try. 
Such  men  are  rare  in  history,  but  they  have 
always  been  forthcoming  when  God  wanted  them. 


A  CAKE  OF  BARLEY  BREAD         247 

In  the  political  history  of  mankind  there  are  not  a 
few  such  characters.  I  have  already  named  two. 
William  Wallace,  a  simple  gentleman,  saved  Scot- 
land at  a  time  when  her  nobles  and  even  the  man 
who  should  have  been  her  king  ceased  to  believe 
in  her  freedom  and  her  destiny.  Some  of  them 
had  joined  the  enemy.  Hope  was  extinguished. 
Few  cared.  "  A  cake  of  barley  bread."  William 
Tell  was  something  more  than  a  legendary  character, 
probably,  too.  A  Swiss  peasant  made  history  when, 
in  spite  of  all  obstacles  and  in  defiance  of  all  pre- 
cedents, he  snatched  from  the  jaws  of  the  mightiest 
empire  of  the  world  the  little  republic  which  exists 
to-day  in  the  very  heart  of  Europe.  Benjamin 
Franklin,  a  humble  labouring  man,  anticipated  Mr 
Chamberlain  by  long  years  in  his  pleading  with  the 
inhabitants  of  this  country,  with  its  crown  and  with 
its  government,  not  to  thrust  aside  its  imperial 
destiny.  He  strove  to  avert  the  fate  of  his  country 
—shall  I  say,  he  strove  to  avert  the  separation  of 
his  country  from  the  motherland?  He  failed,  so 
he  proceeded  to  make  a  nation  on  the  other  side. 
Out  of  Benjamin  Franklin's  brain,  to  a  large  extent, 
the  American  Constitution  and  the  American  Re- 
public sprang.  A  labouring  man — "  a  cake  of  barley 
bread  " — a  maker  of  history.  Joan  of  Arc — one  name 
suggests  another — a  peasant  girl,  a  victim  of  French 
selfishness  and  English  tyranny,  but  to-day  the  patron 
saint  of  her  country — "a  cake  of  barley  bread." 
In  the  religious  world,  in  religious  history,  the 


248        A  CAKE  OF  BARLEY  BREAD 

facts  are  even  more  instructive — Francis  of  Assisi,  a 
friendless  youth,  expelled  from  his  father's  house 
without  so  much  as  clothes  to  cover  him,  the  regenera- 
tor of  Christendom ;  Savonarola,  a  preaching  friar, 
unarmed,  defenceless,  pitted  against  the  mightiest 
system  the  world  had  ever  seen,  and  up  to  a  point, 
though  it  cost  him  his  life,  a  victor  and  the  harbinger 
of  victory;  John  Wycliife,  a  poor  scholar,  "the 
morning  star  of  the  Reformation,"  when  princes  and 
great  nobles,  not  to  speak  of  the  common  people, 
dared  not  to  raise  their  voice  against  the  iniquities 
of  Rome  ;  Martin  Luther,  the  simple  monk  of  Wit- 
tenberg, who  tore  half  Christendom  away  from  the 
See  of  St  Peter  ;  Hugh  Latimer,  an  English  yeoman, 
Reformation  bishop  and  martyr  for  all  time ;  John 
Wesley,  the  son  of  a  clergyman,  himself  a  clergy- 
man of  the  Church  of  England,  too  poor,  sometimes, 
to  pay  his  way  almost,  but  the  author  of  the  greatest 
revival  of  modern  times,  whose  followers  have  belted 
the  globe  with  the  story  of  the  gospel,  was  even 
refused  a  hearing  in  the  Church  he  loved  so  well — 
"  a  cake  of  barley  bread  "  against  an  army. 

Charles  Haddon  Spurgeon — some  people  here  are 
old  enough  to  remember  when  he  was  nicknamed 
"  The  Essex  Bumpkin  " — this  man  was  the  apostle 
of  the  nineteenth  century.  An  uneducated  Ameri- 
can, D.  L.  Moody,  reduced  so  low  that  at  one  time, 
though  there  was  no  fear  of  him  going  under,  it  was 
with  him  an  anxiety  how  to  make  ends  meet,  how 
to  carve  out  for  himself  a  career.  When  success 


A  CAKE  OF  BARLEY  BREAD         249 

did  come  it  was  laid  aside — five  thousand  dollars  a 
year  given  up  to  do  God's  work,  and  that  alone. 
"  A  cake  of  barley  bread  " ;  but  he  awoke  the 
English-speaking  world  with  the  story  of  the  love  of 
God.  How  true  are  the  words  of  the  apostle  in  my 
second  lesson  of  this  morning.  "  For  you  see  your 
calling,  brethren,  how  that  not  many  wise  men  after 
the  flesh,  not  many  mighty,  not  many  noble,  are 
called:  But  God  hath  chosen  the  foolish  things  of 
the  world  to  confound  the  wise  ;  and  God  hath 
chosen  the  weak  things  of  the  world  to  confound 
the  things  which  are  mighty  ;  And  base  things  of 
the  world,  and  things  which  are  despised,  hath  God 
chosen,  yea,  and  things  which  are  not,  to  bring  to 
nought  things  that  are :  That  no  flesh  should  glory 
in  His  presence.  But  of  Him  are  ye  in  Christ  Jesus, 
who  of  God  is  made  unto  us  wisdom,  and  righteous- 
ness, and  sanctification,  and  redemption :  That, 
according  as  it  is  written,  He  that  glorieth,  let  him 
glory  in  the  Lord." 

To  us,  looking  back  on  these  achievements,  it 
seems  as  though  the  people  I  have  named  could 
never  have  had  a  doubt  or  a  tremor.  But  it  was 
not  so.  Like  Gideon,  they  questioned  and  hesitated, 
just  as  you  and  I  do,  until  the  decisive  moment  came, 
and  a  moral  purpose  was  formed  and  carried  into 
eiFect. 

I  have  in  the  pulpit  here  with  me  this  morning  a 
copy  of  the  Literary  Supplement  of  the  Times  of 
last  Friday.  There  is  a  passage  in  it  to  which  I 


250       A  CAKE  OF  BARLEY  BREAD 

would  wish  to  direct  your  attention.  It  is  well 
worth  it.  In  an  able  review  of  a  book  about  the 
"  Saints  of  England,"  the  writer  says: — 

"  Even  to  purely  scientific  minds  the  subject  of  the  saints — of 
those  men  and  women  who,  having  been  born  in  this  world,  have 
renounced  at  some  period  in  their  history  the  usual  fashions  of  the 
world,  and  in  consequence  have  received  from  contemporaries,  or 
posterity,  an  enduring  record  of  their  renunciation — is  one  of 
extreme  interest,  as  it  has  ever  been  of  vital  importance  to  mystics 
and  members  of  the  Church.  Canonization  is  rarer  nowadays 
a  great  deal  than  it  was  in  the  Middle  Ages.  Strong  souls  of 
passionate,  humane  and  spiritual  intention  live  grinding  on  in  our 
material  midst  with  hair  shirts  infinitely  more  cruel  than  any  of  the 
Middle  Ages  bound  about  their  worn  and  exhausted  bodies. 
They  are  often  the  mothers  and  fathers  of  many  children,  fearless, 
if  weary,  toilers  in  a  wilderness  of  sodden  city  streets ;  sometimes 
they  are  the  sons  and  daughters  of  almost  unendurable  family 
circles.  And  there  are  even  more  remarkable  and  unrecognised 
saints  than  these — saints  who  drive  in  motor-cars  and  wear  their 
eyeballs  out  beneath  the  blaze  of  electric  light  in  drawing-rooms ; 
social  saints,  these  last,  *  playing  the  game  '  in  the  face  of  disease, 
disgrace,  and  ruin,  for  the  sake  of  some  family  tradition,  some 
purely  worldly  hope  for  child  or  brother;  that  very  '  game  of  life' 
upon  which  the  saints  so  persistently,  joyously,  and — may  we  say 
it? — with  such  self-satisfaction  were  wont  to  turn  their  backs,  and 
thereby  win  into  their  memories  the  'eternal'  halos  of  mankind." 

Just  so,  had  we  eyes  to  see  it,  as  the  writer  of  the 
article  has.  How  true  it  is  to  say  that  God's  pur- 
poses are  being  worked  out.  God's  battles  are  being 
fought  in  obscure  places,  but  as  surely  and  as  really, 
and  in  God's  eyes  with  as  much  value,  as  any  of  those 
that  have  taken  place  on  the  great  field  of  history. 

Here  before  me  this  morning,  I  doubt  not,  though 


A  CAKE  OF  BARLEY  BREAD         251 

perhaps  they  have  never  thought  of  it,  are  some 
who  are  the  chosen  of  the  Lord  as  much  as  Gideon, 
Luther,  Wesley,  Moody,  only  you  were  chosen  for 
the  day  of  small  things.  Is  your  vocation  of  any 
less  value  on  that  account  ?  Not  in  the  least.  You 
stand  now  as  plainly  outlined  before  the  gaze  of 
God  and  heaven  as  ever  stood  a  John  Wycliffe  or  a 
Martin  Luther  when  fronting  the  inquisitors  and 
persecutors  of  old.  You  are  fighting  as  great  a 
battle  as  Gideon  fought,  as  true  a  battle,  and  in  the 
purpose  of  God  it  may  be  as  worthy  a  conflict  as 
ever  he  carried  to  a  successful  issue. 

Here  are  God's  "  cakes  of  barley  bread."  Let 
me  speak  to  one  or  two  of  you  personally.  You  see 
that  man  of  humble  parts,  concerning  whom  the  world 
knows  but  little,  but  whose  lot  in  life  has  already 
been  so  strenuous  and  so  hard.  This  man  is  a 
member  of  a  scattered  family,  gathered  perhaps  into 
many  households.  He  was  just  the  member  of  the 
family  from  whom  least  was  expected  when  he  was 
young.  He  has  had  to  carve  his  way  alone,  and  to 
do  it  against  odds.  He  had  no  particular  chance 
given  him ;  no  particular  pride  was  ever  shown  in 
him.  But  now — now  that  his  grip  and  strength  of 
character,  now  that  his  singleness  of  purpose  and 
honesty  of  aim  have  been  crowned  with  a  moderate 
amount  of  success,  that  man  has  the  burden  of  the 
rest  loaded  upon  him.  How  often  that  occurs  in 
human  history.  Life  is  not  easy  for  anyone  of  you. 
It  is  full  of  care  and  tragedy,  perhaps,  for  many  who 


252   A  CAKE  OF  BARLEY  BREAD 

are  here  just  now.  Such  a  man  as  I  have  now 
described  is  one  of  God's  "cakes  of  barley  bread." 
There  is  nothing  very  interesting  about  him.  No 
one  would  ever  dream  of  describing  him  as  remark- 
able, but  here  he  is,  carrying  not  only  double,  but 
more  than  double  the  load  he  need  carry  if  it  were 
not  that  he  had  other  lives  to  think  of  as  well  as  his 
own,  so  many  weak  wills  to  strengthen.  He  is 
always  called  to  rescue  in  the  moment  of  stress,  and 
forgotten  the  moment  it  is  over.  Is  it  any  wonder 
that  he  shrinks  from  the  conflict  and  avers  that  he 
has  had  enough  ?  But  he  always  goes  back,  and 
always  takes  up  the  burden  again,  and  always  strikes 
his  blow  for  a  brother's  good.  Ungrateful  Israel  is 
saved  by  him — why  ?  Because  he  has  realised 
down  in  the  depths  of  his  heart  this  is  his  duty. 
He  cannot  let  father  or  brother  go  down,  so  he  is 
the  man  that  they  ought  to  be,  this  Gideon  of 
modern  times,  playing  the  game  in  the  obscure 
corner,  one  of  God's  "  cakes  of  barley  bread." 

Now  turn  your  eyes  toward  the  quiet  little  woman 
who  has  come  to  church  alone.  Her  husband  knows 
too  much  to  worship  God  on  the  Sabbath  day ;  he 
has  outgrown  it.  This  little  woman  knows  in  all  its 
fulness  the  problem  of  poverty,  anxiety,  struggle, 
home  sorrow.  She  has  married  a  man  in  whom  she 
finds  it  difficult  to  believe  now  as  she  did  on  the  day 
she  espoused  him.  But  she  tries  to  do  it,  and  keeps 
a  brave  face  to  the  world,  and  will  never  confess 
that  she  married  one  who  was  weak,  but  who 


A  CAKE  OF  BARLEY  BREAD         253 

appeared  to  be  strong.  If  ever  trouble  comes  to 
this  family,  it  is  the  wife  who  bears  it,  not  the 
husband,  who  says  he  does.  Here  is  one  who  has 
not  only  to  face  the  crisis  when  her  husband  lies 
down  before  it,  but  she  has  to  keep  up  his  spirits 
too,  and  renew  the  dying  hope  within  him.  She 
does  not  tell  the  world,  and  the  world  does  not  care, 
though  perhaps  the  world  would  give  the  man  what 
it  thinks  he  deserves.  This  woman  is  neither 
beautiful  nor  brilliant.  She  will  attract  no  attention 
in  company.  There  is  nothing  showy  about  the 
part  she  plays  ;  but  what  will  be  the  outcome  ?  I 
know.  Her  children  shall  rise  up  and  call  her 
blessed.  The  truth  will  out  sometime  where  it  most 
matters  to  be  told.  It  is  known  now,  if  she  could 
only  see  it,  in  high  heaven  and  in  the  presence  of 
the  angels  who  are  strong  and  pure,  and  whose 
strength  and  whose  purity  are  shown  in  their 
sympathy  with  these  struggling  ones  of  earth. 
Ministering  spirit  below,  you  have  a  kinship  with 
those  ministering  spirits  above !  God  knows  the 
task  that  was  set,  and  how  it  is  being  done.  "A 
cake  of  barley  bread,"  a  single  arm  against  a  host,  a 
brave  battle  with  the  inevitable  end.  God's  ways 
shall  triumph,  and  triumph  in  you.  Hold  on,  for  as 
sure  as  you  are  here  this  morning  so  surely  has  God 
called  you  to  the  work  that  you  are  doing,  and  to 
the  victory  you  shall  win.  Turn  back  to  the  task 
you  have  left  with  the  full  assurance  that  so  it  is 
and  so  it  must  ever  be. 


254       A  CAKE  OF  BARLEY  BREAD 

Now  just  let  your  thoughts  turn  to  this  boy  and 
girl,  for  they  are  little  more,  who  have  come  to 
church  to-day  to  receive  strength  and  inspiration  for 
an  almost  impossible  task  to-morrow.  The  father 
has  been  taken  away  by  the  hand  of  death.  The 
poor  mother  is  not  able  to  cope  with  the  world,  not 
able  to  think  what  to  do  or  what  measures  to  take 
to  keep  the  old  home  together.  So  this  boy  and 
girl  have  to  be  father  and  mother  to  their  own 
mother  and  to  the  rest — and  I  am  painting  no 
imaginary  picture.  I  know  it  to  be  true.  They 
are  not  versed  in  the  ways  of  the  world,  so  they  are 
cheated  and  they  are  wronged  and  they  are  op- 
pressed. They  are  the  losers,  mostly,  when  the 
conflict  comes  with  the  hard,  practised  man  of 
affairs.  Now  and  then  they  find  a  friend,  but  they 
are  learning,  even  so  young,  not  to  put  much  trust 
in  human  promises ;  they  hold  good  as  long  as  they 
do  not  pinch  the  person  who  makes  them.  It  is  a 
hard  task.  Sometimes  they  feel  as  if  it  ought  not 
to  have  been  set  them.  Yet  these  are  only  tempted 
for  the  moment  to  shrink  from  what  God  has  sent 
them  to  do.  To-morrow  it  will  be  all  right  again. 
Back  to  the  front !  God's  "cakes  of  barley  bread" 
thrown  against  a  host,  victory  granted  and  assured ! 
Gideon  looked  just  like  any  other  Israelite,  and 
amongst  the  people  here  this  morning  it  would 
puzzle  you  to  pick  out  the  men  who  are  playing  the 
game  as  I  have  described  it.  Within  as  many 
minutes  I  sometimes  talk  to  two  or  three  men  and 


A  CAKE  OF  BARLEY  BREAD         255 

try  to  figure  out  what  might  be  if  circumstances 
changed  with  anyone  of  them.  One  man  comes  with 
his  complaint  of  the  hardness  of  fortune,  the  inex- 
plicableness  of  fate,  and  excuses  himself  for  having 
failed  and  gone  down.  Another  comes,  tells  you 
nothing  about  it,  but  you  know  he  has  to  begin 
again  just  where  he  started  years  ago,  because  of 
the  mischance  which  has  overtaken  him,  and  which 
he  never  did  anything  to  deserve.  What  a  differ- 
ence in  the  two  men !  I  know  if  I  put  this  latter 
man  down  in  the  midst  of  a  great  city,  or  in  the 
wilds  of  Africa,  he  is  not  going  under.  He  carries 
his  credentials  in  his  character.  Usually  the  secret 
of  a  man's  failure,  though  he  knows  it  not,  is  not  to 
be  sought  in  any  external  circumstances  whatever 
but  in  himself,  and  a  man's  success  before  it  comes 
is  guaranteed  by  the  quality  of  his  brain  and  heart. 

"  Whose  armour  is  his  honest  thought, 
And  simple  trust  his  utmost  skill !  " 

Shall  I  tell  you  where  to  find  the  secret  of 
invincible  courage — intense  unselfishness  ?  Look  up 
the  record  of  the  men  of  faith.  Have  you  a  great 
task  before  you  to  do  to-morrow  ?  In  what  spirit 
do  you  propose  to  attempt  it  ?  Have  you  a  duty  for 
God  ?  With  what  resource  will  you  face  it  ?  Do 
you  ask — it  is  very  natural  that  you  should — why  all 
this?  Why  am  I  expected  to  do  this  work  and 
bear  that  extremity  of  fortune  ?  What  hope  of 
success  when  I  have  done  it?  "A  cake  of  barley 


256       A  CAKE  OF  BARLEY  BREAD 

bread  "  against  an  army.  Yet  rise  up,  children  of 
God.  Christ  is  with  you,  nay,  Christ  comes  again 
in  you  to  a  fresh  encounter  with  the  host  of  evil. 
Our  first  hymn  this  morning  is  a  glorious  comment 
on  this  text : — 

"  Oh,  wisest  love  !   that  flesh  and  blood, 

Which  did  in  Adam  fail, 
Should  strive  afresh  against  their  foe — 
Should  strive  and  should  prevail." 

Where  am  I  to  look  for  my  Christ  ?  In  heaven  ? 
Well,  yes,  in  heaven.  When  we  see  Him  face  to 
face  we  shall  know  something  of  what  we  have 
owed  to  Him  all  the  way.  But  here  is  the  place  for 
the  saint  to  look  for  Him  now.  Look  within  your 
own  heart  and  you  will  find  Him  there.  All  that  is 
best  in  you  is  Christ.  The  Christ  divine  indwells 
every  one  of  you,  you  unrecognised  saints  of  God. 
It  is  His  work  that  you  do ;  His  spirit  which 
prompted  it,  and  His  victory  that  you  are  to  win. 
Only  "a  cake  of  barley  bread";  only  a  frail  hand 
and  a  single  arm;  only  a  trembling,  fearful  heart, 
but  yonder  the  mighty  work  and  here,  at  hand, 
within,  the  Lord  of  Hosts ! 


A  SINFUL  GOD 


THE  following  subject  was  chosen  as  a  result  of  conversations  with 
a  number  of  pessimistically  inclined  people,  whose  questions  involved 
the  venerable  problem  treated  in  the  Greek  tragedies,  and  the  Book 
of  Job.  In  the  choice  of  title  and  text  I  made  an  attempt  to 
bring  Christian  experience  to  bear  upon  a  problem  to  which  mere 
speculation  is  unequal.  The  issue  was  sharply  stated — too  sharply 
to  be  at  once  understood  by  some  people  who  were  present.  Vide 
the  postscript  which  follows  the  sermon. 

I  may  remark  that  one  of  these  conversationalists  was  Mr  Hall 
Caine,  whose  forthcoming  book,  "  The  Prodigal  Son,"  treats  the 
same  theme. 


XV 

"  We  make  Him  a  liar." — i  JOHN  i.  10. 

THE  title  I  have  given  to  our  subject  is,  I  admit,  a 
strange,  almost  an  irreverent,  one,  but  our  text 
justifies  the  phrase  if  only  to  force  an  issue  upon 
our  consciences.  It  is  no  trifling  alternative  with 
which  the  writer  of  this  chapter  arrests  our  atten- 
tion by  the  use  of  this  startling  phrase.  He  places 
in  bold  relief  what  is  the  half-comprehended  feeling 
of  many  whose  thoughts  and  lives  are  in  direct 
opposition  to  that  view  of  the  nature  of  God  which 
came  to  us  in  Jesus  Christ.  "  If  we  say  that  we 
have  not  sinned  we  make  Him  a  liar" — there  is  no 
help  for  it.  If  the  moral  attitude  of  the  man  of  the 
world  is  the  true  and  wise  one,  be  he  hedonist, 
pessimist,  or  materialist,  then  God  Himself  must  be 
a  sinner,  and  the  universe  is  a  lie. 

Before  going  further,  let  us  be  sure  that  we  have 
grasped  the  writer's  meaning.  The  word  "  liar,"  as 
employed  in  this  text,  sounds  to  English  ears  a  very 
strong  epithet ;  it  has  an  offensive  and  even  a  con- 
temptuous significance.  If  you  or  I  were  to  employ 
the  term  in  addressing  or  describing  anyone  in  our 
circle  of  acquaintance,  we  should  expect  it  to  be 

resented.      But    the    offensive    and    contemptuous 

259 


260  A  SINFUL  GOD 

significance  is  not  necessarily  present  in  this  passage. 
It  really  means  the  essential  falseness  of  all  existence. 
It  could  be  employed  even  of  an  unconscious  God. 
Suppose  you  imagined  that  the  power  behind  pheno- 
mena is  utterly  unconscious  of  itself,  and  that  a  good 
man  crushed  by  irresistible  fate  was  destroyed  by  a 
God  that  did  not  know  it  when  He  did  it,  you  might 
feel  and  say  :  The  universe  is  false  to  my  conscience  ; 
conscience  has  bidden  me  do  right — I  have  been 
destroyed  by  doing  it :  and  this  blind,  deaf,  and 
dumb  God  of  mine  did  not  know.  But  is  it  not 
immeasurably  worse  if  you  can  bring  yourself  to 
feel  and  say  that  the  God  behind  all,  after  all, 
knows  perfectly  well  what  He  is  doing,  knows  you 
and  all  about  you,  but  is  utterly  indifferent  as  to 
what  happens  to  you  when  you  have  served  His 
immediate  purpose ;  you  may  suffer,  but  He  cares 
not ;  you  may  die,  He  has  done  with  you ;  good 
and  evil,  right  and  wrong,  joy  and  sorrow  are  all  one 
to  Him  ?  "  He  plants  His  footsteps  in  the  sea,  and 
rides  upon  the  storm."  What  could  such  atoms  as 
you  say  to  the  Judge  of  all  the  earth,  a  Judge  to 
whom  right  and  wrong  matter  equally  nothing  ? 
As  John  Stuart  Mill  says :  We  would  arraign  such 
a  God — we  could  not  help  it — before  the  tribunal 
of  our  own  consciences,  and  we  should  say :  One 
thing  at  least  He  cannot  do,  He  cannot  compel  me 
to  worship  Him,  and  if  He  sends  me  to  hell  for  such 
a  refusal,  then  to  hell  I  will  go.  That  quiet  pessi- 
mist of  centuries  ago  uttered  almost  a  twentieth- 


A  SINFUL  GOD  261 

century  sentiment  about  such   an    extremity   when 
he  wrote : — 

"  We  are  none  other  than  a  moving  row 
Of  magic  shadow-shapes,  that  come  and  go 

Round  with  the  sun-illumined  lantern  held 
In  midnight  by  the  Master  of  the  show." 

Here  then  is  an  issue  which  the  writer  of  our 
text  forces  upon  us.  If  the  man  who  is  seeking  to 
follow  the  right  that  is  written  and  proclaimed 
within  his  own  conscience  find  no  correspondence 
with  the  voice  of  that  conscience  in  the  world  out- 
side him,  then  the  universe  is  a  lie.  It  behoves  this 
generation  to  ponder  well  the  declaration  contained 
in  these  words,  and  every  one  of  us  must,  whether 
he  likes  or  not,  take  up  some  attitude  towards  them. 
To  the  man  of  indifferent  life  who  feels  he  is  obey- 
ing the  law  of  the  universe  by  living  a  bad  life,  I 
have  a  question  to  put,  or,  rather,  I  would  like  him 
to  put  it  to  himself :  Is  God  a  liar,  or  am  I  ?  Let  me 
illustrate.  I  doubt  not  I  address  some  who  feel  the 
terrible  pressure  of  the  burden  of  the  world's  woe. 
Who  has  not  done  so  at  some  time  or  other  ?  And 
who  is  himself  so  steeped  in  self-satisfaction  as  not 
to  feel  one  pang  of  sympathetic  sorrow  for  those 
less  fortunately  placed  than  myself?  We  may  feel 
the  pressure  of  the  problem  through  our  sympathy 
with  agonising  humankind,  or  through  our  own  self- 
pity.  Going  out  into  my  garden  one  morning  to 
listen  to  the  song  of  the  birds,  I  found  in  one  bush 
a  little  nest  full  of  tiny  mites  all  dead,  and  I  could 


262  A  SINFUL  GOD 

not  for  the  life  of  me  understand  why ;  I  knew 
that  no  one  in  my  house  would  do  such  a  cruel 
thing  as  take  away  the  mother  of  those  little 
ones.  Presently  I  discovered  the  reason.  Hang- 
ing by  her  feet  in  the  garden  net  was  the 
little  songster  whose  home  that  tiny  nest  was. 
She  had  been  seeking  food  for  her  little  ones,  and 
had  been  caught  there  and  slowly  destroyed.  My 
imagination  conjured  up  the  scene  that  must  have 
taken  a  good  while  to  enact — the  slow  death,  the 
longing  to  be  free,  the  starving  progeny,  the  seeming 
sinister  cruelty  of  it  all.  No  philosopher  that  has 
ever  lived,  any  more  than  the  weakest,  smallest 
child,  is  able  to  give  a  full  and  satisfactory  answer 
to  the  question.  Why  ?  There  was  epitomised 
the  story  of  sentient  life  in  the  world,  and  in  face 
of  that  tiny  tragedy,  I  sent  up  my  question  to  the 
Lord  of  the  universe,  and  felt  for  the  moment  as  if 
I  stood  upon  one  side  and  He  upon  another,  and  as 
though  there  were  in  humanity  an  element  of  pity 
which  he  Himself  lacked,  though  the  power  was  all 
His.  At  our  young  men's  meeting  last  Thursday 
the  veteran  philanthropist  who  addressed  it  said, 
"I  am  sometimes  glad  I  do  not  live  in  London.  I 
almost  think  it  would  unman  me;  there  is  the 
apparently  hopeless  sorrow  of  the  great  sunken 
masses  of  London  to  account  for.  There  seems  to 
be  so  little  done  and  such  a  cry  of  agony  rising  from 
the  abyss,  that  I  feel  if  I  were  amongst  it,  in  the 
presence  of  it,  it  would  break  my  heart."  I  know 


A  SINFUL  GOD  263 

what  Dr  Paton  meant,  as  most  of  you  do.  It  is,  as 
we  read  in  our  first  lesson  (Job  ii.),  that  evil  is 
stalking  to  and  fro  in  the  earth,  and  walking  up  and 
down  in  it,  and  God  tolerates  it — nay,  it  may  be, 
ordains  it. 

Yet  there  once  stood  amongst  us  a  Being  who 
had  a  verdict  to  pronounce,  and,  though  he  gave  no 
full  explanation,  He  said  this  concerning  the  great 
problem  which  you  and  I  are  now  facing :  "  Are 
not  two  sparrows  sold  for  a  farthing,  and  not  one  of 
them  falls  to  the  ground  without  your  Father. 
Behold  the  fowls  of  the  air;  they  sow  not,  neither 
do  they  reap,  nor  gather  into  barns,  and  God 
feedeth  them.  Are  ye  not  much  better  than  they?" 
This  same  Jesus — whom  some  people  have  accused 
of  looking  too  lightly  upon  the  great  problem  of  the 
woe  of  the  world,  who,  as  He  watched  the  sparrow 
die  at  the  same  moment,  uttered  the  word  "  Father  " 
in  conjunction  with  the  tiny  tragedy — this  Jesus 
went  to  a  cross  for  His  faith ;  human  hands  nailed 
Him  there.  If  there  ever  was  a  vision  about  the 
meaning  of  the  universe  and  of  the  nature  of  God, 
Jesus  had  it,  but  it  did  not  save  Him  from  the  Cross. 
He  uttered  no  complaint  against  God,  and  His  last 
word  was  a  word  of  pity  for  man.  But  this  Jesus 
who  thus  spoke  about  the  love  of  the  Father  for 
His  children  paid  for  it  surely  in  His  own  life ;  the 
dichotomy  went  straight  through  His  experience. 
We  feel  the  desperate  antinomy  in  the  experience 
of  Christ  as  we  feel  it  nowhere  else.  These  con- 


264  A  SINFUL  GOD 

tradictions  in  experience  are  to  some  natures 
appalling;  we  feel  as  though  harmony  were  im- 
possible. Some  of  us  feel  at  times  as  if  we  are 
living  two  lives — one  in  which  we  are  as  Jesus,  and 
the  other  in  which  we  have  to  conform  to  the  world's 
evil  standard.  This  is  the  doctrine  of  Positivism — 
humanity  on  one  side,  nature  on  the  other.  Humanity 
can  be  considered  as  one,  so  can  God ;  but  the  real 
God,  the  hard  God,  the  masterful  God,  is  upon  the 
other  side,  and  identified  with  the  soulless  world. 

I  was  reading  in  a  book  called  "  Love  and  Hunger  " 
which  came  to  me  the  other  day  a  statement  of  this 
dichotomy  which  probably  the  writer  did  not  mean 
to  make.  He  describes  a  working  man  sitting  by 
the  bedside  of  his  little  child ;  he  has  been  out  of 
work  weeks  and  months.  The  doctor  has  told  him 
his  child  may  be  saved  if  he  can  give  her  good  food 
and  take  her  away  to  the  seaside,  and  so  on.  The 
man  cannot  get  the  food  to  give  the  child ;  the 
comforts  are  impossible,  the  seaside — you  might  as 
well  speak  of  heaven.  The  man  grows  desperate  as 
he  sits  there  and  watches  her  slipping  away  from 
him  into  the  unseen.  Within  a  few  hours  of  the 
time  when  death  has  done  his  last  and  worst,  the 
work  is  granted.  The  man  feels  no  gratitude  to 
anybody ;  it  comes  too  late.  But  at  the  very  hour 
when  the  child  is  taken  from  him  he  must  go  out  to 
earn  his  daily  bread ;  there  she  lies  still  on  the  bed, 
and  here  is  he,  pushing  trucks  about  a  goods  yard. 
There  is  the  problem  epitomised — the  two  lives,  the 


A  SINFUL  GOD  265 

one  at  the  bedside,  love  that  would  have  given  itself 
in  extremest  sacrifice  to  save  the  little  one ;  the 
other  conforming  to  that  hard  and  terrible  law.  He 
had  to  labour  and  he  had  to  suffer. 

Even  greater  is  the  question  as  affects  the  distribu- 
tion of  God's  judgments.  Now  and  then  a  man  comes 
to  me  and  pours  out  his  saddening  tale  as  to  the  way 
in  which  God  has  judged  righteous  judgment  concern- 
ing him;  he  has  sinned  against  the  light, and  righteous- 
ness has  been  terribly  vindicated  in  his  life.  But  for 
one  such  man  there  are  twenty  men  who  never  come. 
"The  wicked  flourish  like  a  green  bay  tree."  Here 
is  a  scheming  monster  with  whom  everything  has 
gone  well  to  all  appearances  since  he  began  his 
lying  career;  why  should  that  harpy  be  tolerated 
in  the  ranks  of  humanity  any  more  than  a  bird 
of  prey  ?  It  may  be  I  address  one  who  is  helpless 
in  the  face  of  intolerable  wrong  inflicted  by  such  a 
hand ;  which  of  you  has  the  better  footing  in  life, 
you  with  your  conscience  or  this  man  with  none — 
he  who  has  been  raking  riches  to  himself  ever  since 
he  began  to  think  ?  That  is  a  question  as  between 
your  conscience  and  your  God.  A  friend  showed  to 
me  some  months  ago  a  newspaper  paragraph  which 
concerned  one  of  us.  Putting  it  down  on  the 
table,  he  said,  "When  you  consider  that  pungent, 
lying,  loathsome  statement,  which  only  just  avoids 
the  law  of  libel,  what  is  your  first  thought  concern- 
ing the  writer?"  I  read  the  paragraph  without  a 
tremor  of  emotion,  without  any  feeling  either  of 


266  A  SINFUL  GOD 

indignation  or  respect.  I  said,  "Well,  the  man  who 
wrote  it  probably  had  his  bread  to  earn,  and  sold 
his  soul  in  doing  it."  "  Precisely,"  said  my  friend ; 
"but  he  must  have  thought  it  would  pay  him  to  do 
it ;  he  must  have  thought  the  world  would  give 
him  a  chance  if  he  did  it;  therefore,  this  expresses 
his  philosophy  of  life.  He  would  lie  away  another 
man's  career,  he  would  stab  to  death  another  man's 
peace,  he  would  not  give  the  treachery  two  thoughts 
after  he  had  done  it ;  but  he  must  believe  somehow 
that  the  world  is  so  made  that  it  will  let  him  do 
this,  and  the  world's  God  is  of  such  a  kind  as  to 
approve  it,  otherwise  it  never  would  have  been 
done." 

You  see  what  I  am  trying  to  bring  out.  Con- 
science, even  at  its  best,  sometimes  feels  the  terrible 
dissonance  between  good  and  evil,  between  the  ideal 
and  the  real,  and  conscience  at  its  worst  acts  as 
if  the  real  were  the  evil,  and  as  though  it  would 
pay  to  do  that  which  is  wrong,  rather  than  to  do 
that  which  is  right.  Men  must  believe  it,  or  they 
would  not  persist  in  sin ;  nay,  they  might  even  deny 
that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  sin.  When  you  see 
a  man  giving  his  life  to  shame  and  wrong  you  are 
tempted  to  believe  that  the  law  of  the  universe  is 
the  survival  of  the  fittest — go  on  if  you  can,  carve 
your  way,  for  you  must,  nature  will  not  spare  you ; 
believe  that  the  law  of  the  universe  requires  you 
not  to  know  anything  about  sin,  not  to  be  squeamish 
about  wrong ;  take  things  as  they  come,  keep  your 


A  SINFUL  GOD  267 

footing,  live  your  life.  If  so,  the  universe  is  worse 
than  a  tragedy,  it  finds  a  place  for  the  victorious 
lie ;  good  and  evil  it  is  equally  indifferent  to,  right 
and  wrong,  peace  and  pain  are  confused  together. 
What  shall  we  say,  then,  of  those  who  try  to  live 
another  kind  of  life  than  this,  but  that  if  the  man  of 
the  world  has  the  best  of  it,  if  the  hedonist  comes 
off  conqueror,  if  the  materialist  philosophy  is  the 
very  truth,  and  God  is  blind  and  deaf  and  dumb,  or 
worse,  then  the  universe  is  a  lie. 

Here,  then,  is  the  issue  before  us.  Many  of  you, 
without  facing  things  out,  are  living  as  though  the 
question  were  already  settled  for  you.  If  evil  is 
stronger  than  good,  then  you  are  entitled  to  call  even 
conscience  a  liar  ;  if  there  is  nothing  to  vindicate  the 
righteous  man,  then  God  Himself  is  the  aider  and 
abettor  of  sin,  and  is  justly  condemned  by  the  very 
thing  that  has  been  held  to  reveal  Him.  Nay,  if  good 
has  usually  been  on  the  cross,  and  evil  on  the  throne, 
then  even  Jesus  Christ,  the  Being  of  clearest  moral 
vision  that  the  world  has  ever  known,  was  also  the 
blindest  and  the  most  deluded,  and  those  who  have 
loved  and  followed  and  suffered  and  died  for  Him 
are  of  all  men  the  most  miserable  and  the  greatest 
fools.  I  intentionally  put  the  case  pungently.  Here 
it  stands  then :  Jesus  Christ  on  the  one  side  and  the 
god  of  the  materialist  and  the  hedonist  upon  the  other. 
If  the  man  of  the  world  is  right,  and  piety  a  failure, 
then  Christ  is  a  mistake,  and  those  who  follow  Him 
are  worse. 


268  A  SINFUL  GOD 

But  stay :  there  are  two  things  I  would  like  to 
bring  before  your  attention.  First,  supposing  it 
were  possible  to  imagine  God  being  on  one  side 
and  right  on  the  other ;  better  perish  with  the  right 
than  succeed  with  such  a  God.  We  will  put  it  that 
way.  Perhaps  you  think  I  am  saying  something 
new,  but  centuries  before  Jesus  walked  on  earth 
a  man  worked  out  that  problem;  nor  is  it  merely 
in  the  book  of  Job.  A  Greek  tragedian  represents 
Prometheus  hurled  from  heaven  and  chained  to  a 
rock  by  the  king  of  the  gods  because  he  chose  a 
right  that  was  greater  than  Zeus.  This  god  could 
not  conquer  ;  he  crushed  him,  but  the  victim  had  the 
victory  after  all.  Prometheus  chained  to  the  rock 
appealed  to  eternal  right  against  enthroned  wrong. 
How  like  that  is  to  the  story  of  the  mediaeval  wor- 
shipper, who,  when  told  that  the  gospel  of  Christ 
was  only  the  story  of  the  world's  greatest  tragedy,  that 
not  good,  but  evil,  gained  the  victory,  answered : 
"Then  I  had  rather  be  in  hell  with  Christ  than  in 
heaven  without  Him."  This  is  the  ultimatum  of 
conscience.  If  the  universe  had  a  sinister  meaning, 
and  a  devil  were  at  the  heart  of  it,  better  perish 
with  Prometheus  chained  to  the  rock — better  die 
with  Jesus  on  the  cross — than  succeed  by  obeying 
the  sinister  will  of  such  a  god. 

But  here  is  the  second  consideration.  Thousands 
have  done  this  very  thing,  and  pronounced  this  very 
ultimatum.  Men  have  followed  the  prompting  of 
their  highest  nature  with  this  astonishing  and  sub- 


A  SINFUL  GOD  269 

lime  result :  they  have  come  to  feel  absolutely  certain 
that  conscience  told  them  no  lie,  but  that  omnipotent  God 
is  righteousness,  truth,  and  love.  I  am  afraid  that 
some  will  miss  my  meaning  here.  It  is  that  when 
Calvary  became  the  only  issue  out  of  an  impossible 
situation,  when  good  and  evil  were  so  pitted  against 
each  other  that  the  good  had  to  suffer,  evil  had  to 
triumph,  that  the  decision  for  the  highest  taken  not 
only  by  the  Christ,  but  by  all  who  followed  and 
loved  Him,  has  led  to  victory  after  all.  It  is  a 
sublime  fact  that  this  has  meant  the  discovery 
that  the  great  God  is  righteousness,  truth,  and 
love — a  God  that  will  by  no  means  clear  the 
guilty.  "The  Lord  executeth  righteousness  and 
judgment  for  all  that  are  oppressed."  "Like  as  a 
father  pitieth  his  children,  so  the  Lord  pitieth  them 
that  fear  Him."  "  For  God  so  loved  the  world  that 
He  gave  His  only  begotten  Son  that  whosoever 
believeth  on  Him  should  not  perish,  but  have  eternal 
life."  Ponder  this  well,  all  you  whose  lives  are  so 
ordered  as  to  "make  Him  a  liar."  Can  you  stand  in 
the  judgment,  not  the  judgment  that  is  afar  off,  but 
the  judgment  that  ever  proceeds?  Your  life  is 
registering  its  own  decrees.  Is  evil  gain  or  loss? 
Were  it  well  to  serve  it  or  defy  it  ?  I  ask  you  to 
appeal  to  the  experience  of  the  man  of  faith  in  any 
age.  At  that  meeting  last  Thursday  to  which  I 
have  already  referred  one  of  our  deacons  spoke  and 
gave  us  this  piece  of  experience ;  it  arrested  my 
attention  instanter — in  fact,  I  may  say  this  sermon 


270  A  SINFUL  GOD 

came  out  of  it : — He  said  it  had  often  struck  him  as 
an  appalling  thing  that  young  men  of  his  acquaint- 
ance were  sometimes  willing  and  ready  to  avow  that 
the  determination  to  get  on  meant  the  sacrifice  of 
moral  principle.  They  would  speak  in  this  way : 
"The  world  is  so  ordered  to-day  that  the  man 
who  would  succeed  must  have  money — money  I  must 
have !  The  man  who  has  none  is  thought  little  of 
to-day  ;  therefore  I  mean  to  get  it.  If  it  is  wealth 
that  leads  to  power,  and  wealth  that  spells  success, 
I  cannot  afford  to  be  without  it.  I  will  get  it, 
honestly  if  I  can ;  but  if  I  cannot,  still  I  will  get  it." 
This,  said  my  deacon,  struck  him  as  being  a  ghastly 
sign  of  the  times — that  a  man  should  so  present 
the  alternative  to  himself  and  so  decide.  He  was 
not  speaking  from  imagination,  but  from  what  he 
knows  well.  There  are  men  who,  whether  they 
confess  it  or  not,  have  deliberately  made  this 
choice,  which  I  should  call  a  pact  with  the  forces 
of  evil. 

You  see  what  such  a  man  says  to  himself.  It  is 
not  a  question  of  sin.  He  would  not  acknowledge 
its  existence ;  sin  can  only  be  recognised  when 
righteousness  is  enthroned.  Righteousness  may  not 
vindicate  itself  at  once,  but  a  man  will  not  acknow- 
ledge his  sin  who  is  obeying  what  he  calls  the  law 
of  the  universe,  a  necessity  imposed  upon  all  flesh. 
He  says :  "  You  must  live,  you  must  succeed  if  you 
can  ;  you  cannot  afford  to  be  squeamish.  Do  not 
parade  your  sympathy ;  this  world  is  not  a  place  for 


A  SINFUL  GOD  271 

sentiment.  Get  on,  honestly  if  you  can,  but  get  on 
anyhow ;  and  when  the  time  comes  when  you  must 
turn  to  the  left  and  win  success,  or  turn  to  the  right 
and  become  a  failure,  do  not  fear  or  hesitate  to  go 
to  the  left."  You  see  what  you  have  done;  you 
would  not  acknowledge  it,  but  the  word  "  sin  "  has 
no  entrance  here  or  any  stake  at  all.  Be  it  so. 
You  have  taken  your  choice ;  you  have  "  made  Him 
a  liar,"  and,  not  only  so,  but  all  the  experience  of 
saints  and  martyrs  since  time  began.  You  have 
taken  your  stand  with  a  sorry  crew — those  who 
prevail  for  the  moment,  but  to-morrow  are  dismissed 
in  ignominy  from  before  the  face  of  God. 

You,  then,  who  dread  life,  who  are  tired  of  it 
and  suffer  under  it,  have  you  been  to  Christ  with 
your  trouble,  with  your  problem  ?  Has  He  laid  His 
healing  touch  upon  you  ?  Have  you  anything  to 
yield  up  to  Him  ?  Then  fear  nothing  else.  "  If  we 
confess  our  sins,  He  is  faithful  and  just  to  forgive 
us  our  sins,  and  to  cleanse  us  from  all  unrighteous- 
ness. If  we  say  we  have  not  sinned,  we  make  him 
a  liar."  If  He  cannot  keep  you  in  peace  and  safety 
once  you  have  chosen  Him,  then,  in  the  language 
of  our  text,  He  is  a  liar ;  but  can  He — does  He  ? 
Let  the  redeemed  of  the  Lord  say  so  whom  He  has 
delivered  out  of  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  "  Many 
are  the  afflictions  of  the  righteous,  but  the  Lord 
delivereth  him  out  of  them  all."  "Sorrow  endureth 
for  a  night,  joy  cometh  in  the  morning."  This,  then, 
is  the  meaning  of  life.  I  am  glad  that  God  has 


272  A  SINFUL  GOD 

made  it  no  child's  play ;  there  is  many  a  twentieth- 
century  Job  who  has  had  to  face  these  issues  and 
come  through,  walking  by  faith — the  faith  that  never 
loses  grip  of  the  hand  of  righteousness.  It  is  the 
righteous  man  who  knows  that  God  is  true.  "  There 
hath  not  failed  one  word  of  all  His  good  promise." 
I  have  no  fear  or  hesitation  in  stating  this  alterna- 
tive: Either  God  is  a  liar,  evil  man,  or  you  are; 
either  righteousness  is  the  last  word  of  the  universe, 
and  is  one  with  the  love  of  the  All-Father,  or  else 
your  life  is  at  one  with  the  law  of  evil.  But  if  the 
Cross  of  Calvary  is  really  the  way  to  the  throne  of 
His  glory,  you  are  condemned  even  now.  But  you 
who  have  served  truth  and  suffered  for  it,  you  who 
have  been  nailed  on  a  cross  of  your  own  for  trying 
feebly  and  in  a  corner  to  serve  the  same  great  law  of 
righteousness,  you  who  have  come  to  Christ,  turn- 
ing your  back  upon  evil  as  you  turned  your  face  to 
Him,  you  need  have  no  fear:  "Yea,  let  God  be 
true  and  every  man  a  liar."  When  the  heart  of 
a  righteous  man  speaks  true,  it  knows  Him  to  be 
the  Father  and  Redeemer  of  us  all.  But  beware, 
ye  workers  of  iniquity.  "  Turn  ye,  why  will  ye 
die  ? "  The  life  that  is  raised  against  God  is  fore- 
doomed. His  righteousness  will  dash  it  to  pieces 
like  the  potter's  clay. 

A  QUESTION  ANSWERED 

Before  announcing  his   text  on  Sunday  evening 
Mr  Campbell  said  : — 


A  SINFUL  GOD  273 

"  Someone  who  appears  to  have  been  present  at 
the  service  this  morning  has  sent  in  to  me  the  follow- 
ing question,  to  be  answered  if  possible  from  the 
pulpit  to-night.  I  could  hardly  undertake  to  answer 
in  the  pulpit  every  question  that  comes  to  me,  but  as 
this  arrives  so  soon  after  my  teaching  of  this  morning 
I  think  it  is  well  worth  a  word. 

"'Will  Mr  Campbell  kindly  explain  why  the 
power  to  do  evil  is  greater  than  the  power  to  do 
good ;  or,  in  other  words,  why  evil  is  stronger  or 
more  powerful  than  God  ?  ' 

"The  answer  to  the  question  is  that  evil  is  not 
stronger  or  more  powerful  than  God,  though  it  may 
often  seem  to  be  so.  Even  human  experience  at  its 
highest  is  a  constant  denial  of  any  such  pessimistic 
creed.  There  are  men  here  to-night,  I  do  not  doubt, 
who  feel  in  their  hearts,  and  sometimes  say  with  their 
lips,  that  this  is  a  world  in  which  it  is  easier  to  do 
wrong  than  to  do  right.  To  the  flesh  it  may  be, 
but  there  is  something  within  every  man  which  in 
the  very  moment  of  his  sin  informs  him  of  a  larger 
and  a  purer  and  a  higher  life,  and  in  so  doing  calls 
him  towards  it  and  condemns  him  for  failing. 
Every  person  here  must  admit  that.  Moreover, 
in  my  teaching  this  morning  I  tried  to  show  to  you 
by  two  parallel  statements  what  Christian  experience 
has  to  say  upon  this  point.  Supposing,  as  in  the 
Greek  tragedy,  you  are,  like  Prometheus,  chained 
to  the  rock  for  having  dared  to  do  right,  having 
given  yourself  to  a  noble  cause  and  suffered  defeat 


274  A  SINFUL  GOD 

thereby  ;  supposing,  I  say,  that  the  universe  was  so 
made  that  you  had  to  be  chained  to  the  rock,  like 
Prometheus,  or  nailed  upon  the  Cross  of  Christ, 
better  go,  then,  and  suffer  in  defiance  of  an  evil  god 
than  succeed  by  obeying  a  sinister  law.  There  is 
something  in  the  human  heart  which  says,  '  Better 
be  crucified  with  Christ,  if  that  were  the  very  last 
word  that  the  universe  ever  uttered,  than  obey  a 
god  whose  name  and  nature  are  wrong.' 

"  But,  secondly,  the  very  men  who  have  done 
this  are  the  men  who  have  discovered  for  us  and 
written  large  upon  the  skies  of  time  the  truth  that 
to  him  who  suffers  for  the  good  there  enters  the 
confidence  that  God  is  good.  The  men  who  have 
gone  to  the  stake  for  right,  the  men  who  have  been 
tortured  for  the  sake  of  truth,  the  men  who  have 
been  heroic  in  the  world's  great  affairs,  defying  bad 
humanity  itself  for  the  sake  of  something  which  is 
eternal,  have  by  that  very  process  and  that  very 
experience  become  convinced  of  the  fact  that  omni- 
potence was  upon  their  side  after  all.  God  and 
righteousness  and  truth  and  love  are  one,  and  the 
men  who  have  gone  to  Calvary  in  that  belief  have 
not  doubted  that  it  was  so.  And  it  will  be  so  for 
every  man  in  this  place  who  dares  to  venture  his 
life  and  his  career  upon  it  to-morrow.  You  will  not 
be  allowed  to  live  and  to  die  without  the  conscious- 
ness that  you  are  on  the  side  of  God." 


THE  AGNOSTICISM  OF  JESUS 


IT  often  falls  to  my  lot  to  have  to  reason  with  young  men  who  are 
agnostically  inclined.  When  such  a  young  man  is  unteachable  I 
leave  him  alone,  feeling  certain  that  time  will  modify  his  self-con- 
fidence ;  but  if  along  with  his  agnosticism  there  goes  a  wish  to 
render  obedience  to  the  best,  there  are  many  ways  of  helping  him. 
This  sermon  was  designed  to  show  that  not  only  is  humanity  com- 
pelled to  be  agnostic — in  the  literal  meaning  of  the  term — con- 
cerning by  far  the  greater  number  of  the  questions  that  even  a  child 
can  ask  about  the  universe,  but  that  this  ignorance  of  ours  has  a 
certain  moral  value  ;  it  gives  us  an  opportunity  for  noble  living  amid 
things  the  full  meaning  of  which  we  see  not.  This  is  the  way  in 
which  character  is  made.  It  startled  some  of  my  young  men  to  be 
told  that  in  this  sense  I  was  not  only  an  agnostic  myself,  but  that 
every  Christian  must  be,  and  that  even  the  Christian's  Lord  was 
not  exempt  from  the  reality  of  this  experience.  It  is  so  often  and 
so  freely  asserted  that  our  blessed  Lord  had  no  mysteries  to  face, 
that  He  is  made  to  seem  an  unreal  and  unhelpful  Being  to  men  of 
this  generation  who  are  trying  to  follow  Him.  The  mistaken 
abuse  I  received  for  this  sermon,  from  good  people  who  never  saw 
the  point  of  it,  was  more  than  balanced  by  the  good  work  it  did 
among  my  own  young  men.  It  made  Jesus  real  to  them,  and 
taught  them  to  see  that  a  man's  worth  consists  in  the  way  he  deals 
with  that  corner  of  his  life  in  which  there  is  no  room  for  doubt, 
and  no  excuse  to  be  agnostic. 


XVI 

"But  of  that  hour  knoweth  no  man,  no,  not  the  angels  which  are  in 
heaven,  neither  the  Son,  but  the  Father." — MARK  xiii.  32. 

IF  one  were  in  search  of  a  text  with  which  to 
testify  to  the  genuineness  of  the  Gospel  narrative 
he  could  not  select  a  better  than  this  one.  It  is, 
indeed,  remarkable,  in  regard  to  early  Christian 
records  as  a  whole,  that  the  further  we  get  away 
from  apostolic  times  the  less  simple  and  credible 
are  the  accounts  of  the  various  writers.  When  we 
compare  the  gospels  with  sub-apostolic  narratives 
of  what  profess  to  be  incidents  in  the  life  of  Jesus 
we  are  struck  by  the  naturalness  and  spontaneity 
of  the  former  as  against  the  turgidness  and  miracle- 
mongering  of  the  latter.  The  gospels  are  probable 
from  their  very  simplicity,  just  as  the  sub-apostolic 
records  are  largely  improbable  because  they  lack 
that  quality.  In  the  gospels  Jesus  appears  as  a 
simple  yet  sublimely  impressive  figure,  while  in  sub- 
apostolic  literature  He  is  anything  but  that.  This 
text,  then,  is  one  of  many  which  do  something  to 
establish  the  genuineness  of  the  Gospel  records  j 
for  in  sub-apostolic  times  it  would  have  been  added 
to  or  explained  away.  Here  in  St  Mark's  Gospel 
it  stands  just  as  Jesus  spoke  it,  and  apparently  the 


278       THE  AGNOSTICISM  OF  JESUS 

utterance  is  meant  as  an  acknowledgment  of  His 
ignorance  of  some  things. 

There  is  in  many  quarters  to-day  a  tendency  like 
that  of  sub-apostolic  times,  a  reluctance  to  admit 
that  our  Lord  could  be  ignorant  of  anything. 
People  who  hold  that  view  fail  to  see  that  in  so 
doing  they  destroy  the  humanity  of  Jesus,  and 
therefore  His  value  for  us.  What  avail  His  struggle 
and  sorrow  if  He  knew  all  about  their  meaning, 
and  why  they  came,  and  the  issue  thereof?  His 
life  and  work  would  be  unreal  if  we  could  compel 
ourselves  to  believe  that.  No;  as  He  here  Him- 
self asserts,  His  consciousness  of  His  destiny  and 
His  mission  was  limited.  In  many  things  Jesus 
was  the  Child  of  His  time,  and  I  will  mention  some 
of  them.  For  one  thing,  there  is  no  reason  for  us 
to  believe  that  Jesus  thought  anything  other  than 
that  Moses  wrote  the  Pentateuch  from  the  first 
chapter  to  the  last,  and  that  all  the  other  authors 
of  the  Old  Testament  books  were  as  traditionally 
described  and  named.  I  remember  once,  in  Oxford 
days,  hearing  a  popular  preacher,  who  came  to  the 
University  city  with  the  special  object  of  over- 
throwing, as  he  called  it,  or  attempting  to  over- 
throw, the  work  of  one  Biblical  scholar  of  eminence 
— Canon  Driver — and  the  way  he  proposed  to  do 
it  was  this :  "  Jesus  said  Moses  wrote  the  Levitical 
code ;  therefore  he  did  write  it,  otherwise  our  Lord 
is  not  what  He  professed  to  be,  and  our  Lord  is 
not  divine."  The  good  man  was  perfectly  genuine 


THE  AGNOSTICISM  OF  JESUS       279 

and  perfectly  sincere,  but,  as  you  can  see  for  your- 
selves, his  argument  was  not  necessarily  sound — 
far  from  it.  For,  on  our  Lord's  own  showing, 
there  were  some  things  He  did  not  know;  and 
this  may,  with  all  reasonableness,  have  been  one 
of  them.  Who  wrote  the  Pentateuch  or  who  wrote 
the  Psalms  was  not  the  question  that  Jesus  came 
to  settle,  nor  ths  information  that  Jesus  came  to 
give;  neither  should  it  ever  be,  in  the  life  of  any 
rational  man,  or  of  any  Christian,  a  question  of 
primary  importance.  The  questions  of  primary  im- 
portance lie  deeper  than  that,  deeper  than  the 
authenticity  of  this  or  that  book,  but  not  deeper 
than  the  great  moral  facts  of  our  being.  The  Lord 
hath  written  His  law  within  our  hearts.  What  Jesus 
came  to  reveal  no  man  stands  in  doubt  of  who  looks 
at  the  life  of  Jesus  and  tries  to  conform  himself  to  it. 
Further,  Jesus  was  a  Child  of  the  time,  in 
all  probability,  in  that  He  assigned  causes  for 
disease  which  we  do  not  assign  to-day.  Epilepsy, 
for  example,  was  believed  by  everybody  in  His 
time  and  among  His  countrymen  to  be  demon- 
possession.  It  may  have  been — there  is  nothing 
asserted  to  the  contrary — that  Jesus  thought  so 
too.  Again,  there  is  no  reason  to  think  that  He 
knew  all  the  facts  concerning  the  structure  of  the 
physical  universe.  It  is  marvellous  how  He  avoided 
error  concerning  these  things ;  but  there  is  no 
indication  that  Jesus  foresaw  the  astronomical  dis- 
coveries of  a  later  day,  nor  did  He  give  any  hint 


280       THE  AGNOSTICISM  OF  JESUS 

that  He  thought  about  them.  In  political  history 
the  knowledge  of  Jesus  appears  to  have  been  con- 
fined to  His  own  people  and  to  the  influence  of 
Rome  upon  them.  He  never  foresaw  England ;  He 
never  said  a  word  about  the  British  Empire.  He 
never  seems  to  have  looked  much  further  than  His 
own  generation,  as  the  chapter  that  we  read  for 
our  lesson  (Mark  xiii.)  shows.  Yet,  in  the  pro- 
vidence of  God,  England  has  had  a  place  to  fill  in 
the  world  relatively  as  great  as  that  of  Rome,  and 
her  mission  is  not  terminated  yet.  Lastly,  Jesus 
was  the  Child  of  His  time,  in  that  He  not  only 
anticipated  a  speedy  end  of  the  world,  but  that 
it  would  be  of  a  cataclysmal  character:  hence  our 
text.  "This  generation,"  He  says  in  the  context, 
"  shall  not  pass  till  all  these  things  be  done."  It 
is  common  knowledge  that  the  Christian  Church 
in  general  in  the  first  age  expected  a  speedy  coming 
of  the  Messiah  and  a  speedy  end  of  the  world. 
But  Jesus  did  not  come  as  was  expected.  The 
end  of  the  world  is  not  yet.  Every  week  some 
fresh  prophet  professes  to  find  from  certain  portents 
the  exact  date  when  this  earth  and  the  heavens  are 
to  be  dissolved  and  the  elements  melted  with  fervent 
heat;  but  so  many  have  been  their  false  alarms, 
so  numerous  their  disappointments,  that  I  think 
we  may  take  it  for  granted  that  the  end  will  not 
come  quite  so  soon  as  any  person  in  this  generation 
believes,  any  more  than  it  came  in  the  generation 
to  which  Jesus  belonged.  But  I  say  it  is  clear 


THE  AGNOSTICISM  OF  JESUS       281 

from  this  chapter  that  Jesus  Himself  anticipated 
the  end  sooner  than  the  facts  have  shown  to 
be  the  case. 

But  all  this  only  serves  to  bring  Him  very  near 
to  us,  without  dimming  in  the  slightest  the  beauty 
of  His  spiritual  vision  or  diminishing  one  iota  His 
moral  pre-eminence.  It  only  showed  that  Jesus 
possessed  no  dual  consciousness.  He  could  not 
be  at  once  finite  and  infinite — Himself  and  some- 
body else.  He  was  Jesus.  He  brought  to  us 
the  manhood  of  God,  and  everyone  of  you  who 
is  trying  to  live  the  life  of  Jesus  in  the  spirit 
and  strength  of  Jesus  is  showing  forth  the  same 
thing.  For  God  is  not  something  apart  from 
humanity.  He  is  humanity,  and  infinitely  more. 
All  that  God  was  in  humanity,  that  Jesus  was, 
and  is.  He  consistently  represented  humanity  at 
its  highest,  and  thus  showed  it  to  be  in  its  essence 
divine. 

"  Follow  you  the  Star  that  lights  a  desert  pathway,  yours  and 

mine. 
Forward,  till  you  see  the  highest  Human  Nature  is  divine." 

We  may,  therefore,  with  reverence,  regard  this 
text  as  illustrating  the  agnosticism  of  Jesus. 

Agnosticism  was  a  word,  coined,  I  believe,  by 
the  late  Professor  Huxley,  to  express  a  certain 
mental  attitude  towards  questions  insoluble  at 
present  by  the  human  intellect,  but  with  which 
religion  professes  to  deal.  I  do  not  mention  the 
term  with  any  intention  of  attacking  it — far  from 


282       THE  AGNOSTICISM  OF  JESUS 

it.  I  believe  it  has  done  a  necessary  work.  Indeed, 
I  would  like  to  show  that  there  are  some  things 
upon  which  young  men  can  afford  to  be  agnostic, 
and  some  upon  which  every  man  must  be  agnostic, 
and  for  that  we  have  our  Lord's  own  warrant.  It 
was  the  late  Mr  Herbert  Spencer  who,  in  his 
"First  Principles,"  defined  the  basis  of  agnosticism 
thus:  "The  power  behind  phenomena  is  utterly 
inscrutable."  There  are  people  here  who  do  not 
think  that  proposition  ought  to  pass  unchallenged. 
Yet  "  God's  ways  are  in  the  sea."  The  Christian 
could  say  that,  and  is  so  far  an  agnostic.  "  Canst 
thou  by  searching  find  out  God  ? "  The  answer 
is,  No.  But  this  Jesus  of  whom  I  have  been 
speaking  addressed  Himself  directly  to  the  power 
behind  the  phenomena,  as  though  He  knew  some- 
thing concerning  it.  He  said:  "I  thank  Thee, 
O  Father,  that  Thou  hast  hid  these  things  from 
the  wise  and  understanding,  and  hast  revealed  them 
unto  babes."  The  power  behind  phenomena,  if 
it  is  to  be  revealed  at  all,  must  be  revealed  to  a 
certain  quality  of  heart  rather  than  to  a  certain 
quality  of  mind.  This  quality  of  heart  Jesus  ex- 
hibited at  its  fullest  and  best,  and  you  and  I  may 
partake  of  it.  There  are  some  things  that  we 
can  come  to  know  concerning  our  being,  and  our 
destiny,  and  our  place  in  the  heart  of  God,  although 
we  may  be  in  the  dark  about  all  things  else. 

No  doubt  I  address  not  a  few  who  are  in  the 
particular   mental   mood    which    has   conventionally 


THE  AGNOSTICISM  OF  JESUS       283 

been  called  agnosticism.  In  a  congregation  so 
large  as  this,  containing  so  many  young  men,  it 
is  impossible  to  suppose  that  every  person  accepts 
the  orthodox  and  conventional  view  of  the  person 
of  Jesus  and  the  doctrines  of  Christianity.  You 
do  nothing  of  the  kind.  I  do  not  think  any  the 
worse  of  you  if  you  have  faced  your  difficulties 
fairly  and  bravely.  In  your  case,  in  all  probability, 
what  you  call  agnosticism  simply  means  a  sort  of 
religious  uncertainty.  "How  do  you  know?"  would 
be  the  question  you  would  address  to  me  if  I 
were  to  make  any  very  definite  assertion  concerning 
God,  human  destiny,  immortality.  "  Prove  your  case." 
Now,  I  want  to  show  that  we  are  all,  more  or  less, 
compelled  to  assume  yourpresentattitude,  only,  where- 
as you  take  it  about  the  deepest  things,  some  of  us 
have  come  to  see  that  we  cannot  afford  to  take  it 
about  those  things,  and  that  experience  justifies  us  in 
taking  a  more  confident,  more  optimistic  attitude 
toward  the  great  questions  of  human  life.  Thus, 
we  are  all  compelled  to  be  agnostics,  of  a  kind  and 
up  to  a  certain  point — I  am  not  afraid  of  the  word. 
Men  were  agnostics  before  the  word  was  coined, 
but  they  did  not  know  they  were.  I  would  like 
to  show  you  that  your  value  as  a  man  depends 
upon  the  quality  of  your  agnosticism ;  your  merit 
before  God  depends  upon  whether  you  are  an 
agnostic  in  the  sense  that  Jesus  would  approve  or 
whether  you  are  not. 

You  remember,  probably,  the  story  of  the  con- 


284       THE  AGNOSTICISM  OF  JESUS 

version  of  King  Edwin  of  Northumbria.  It  was  a 
long  time  before  Huxley's  days,  but  there  was  some 
agnosticism  taught  by  a  statesman  in  King  Edwin's 
wooden  hall  when  the  missionaries  of  Augustine 
came  to  the  northern  capital  and  waited  before  the 
Saxon  monarch  and  his  lords.  At  first  they  were 
inclined  to  repudiate  him  and  his  doctrines.  At 
last  one  of  the  council  arose  and  spoke  thus  :  "Thou 
knowest,  O  King,  that  oftentimes  on  a  winter 
evening,  when  we  are  assembled  within  this  dimly 
lighted  hall  to  do  the  business  of  our  people,  a  swallow 
will  come  in  from  the  night  and  pass  through  the 
hall  and  out  at  the  further  door — from  darkness 
into  darkness  again.  So  it  is  with  the  human  soul. 
We  come  we  know  not  whence ;  we  go  we  know 
not  whither.  If,  therefore,  these  new  teachers  can 
tell  us  aught  concerning  whence  we  come  and 
whither  we  go,  let  us  hear  them."  Great  events 
proceed  from  small  causes.  It  may  have  been  in 
the  providence  of  God  that  that  speech  that  night 
had  something  to  do  with  your  Christianity  and 
mine  to-day.  Yet  we  are  just  in  the  same  position 
intellectually  as  that  Saxon  speaker  was  who  stood 
before  King  Edwin  concerning  the  same  questions 
that  he  raised.  He  was  an  agnostic,  though  he 
did  not  use  the  word.  So  are  we,  and  yet  we  may 
be  Christians  notwithstanding.  Do  we  know 
whence  we  come  ?  Some  preach  reincarnation,  but 
most  of  us  would  brush  aside  the  suggestion  that 
we  have  ever  lived  before.  Whether  we  brush  it 


THE  AGNOSTICISM  OF  JESUS       285 

aside  or  not,  we  cannot  prove  either  yea  or  nay ; 
we  have  to  hold  our  judgment  in  suspense  in  a 
question  of  that  kind.  The  question  first  to  be 
settled  is,  what  to  do  with  our  destiny  while  we  are 
here,  how  to  prepare  for  the  destiny  that  awaits  us. 
Can  you  tell  whither  you  go?  Not  a  few  in  this 
congregation  are  not  at  all  sure  that  there  is  any 
life  beyond  the  grave.  They  wish  it  could  be 
proven.  So  do  I.  But  we  can  do  no  more  than 
infer  it  from  the  moral  constitution  of  the  universe. 
If  to-morrow  you  could  fling  wide  open  the  portals 
of  the  unseen,  you  would  not  necessarily  make 
better  one  man  on  the  whole  globe ;  rather,  you 
would  probably  give  opportunity  for  the  formation 
of  some  syndicate  to  exploit  it.  You  would  make 
no  man,  necessarily,  feel  that  he  must  be  a  better 
man,  a  nobler  man,  than  he  was  before.  Here, 
then,  we  stand  just  in  the  position  of  the  Saxon 
lord  who  advised  King  Edwin  that  we  know  not 
whence  we  come,  and  we  know  not  for  certain,  in 
the  fashion  of  scientific  truth,  whither  we  go.  We 
can  but  fall  back  on  the  position  of  Tennyson,  which 
is  the  position  of  every  Christian  too,  and  say : — 

"  My  own  dim  life  should  teach  me  this, 
That  life  shall  live  for  evermore, 
Else  earth  is  darkness  at  the  core, 
And  dust  and  ashes  all  that  is." 

Human  nature  refuses  to  believe  that  grim  alter- 
native. The  moral  argument  for  immortality  is  the 
only  one  that  is  much  worth  while.  We  are 


286       THE  AGNOSTICISM  OF  JESUS 

agnostic,  then — compelled  to  be  agnostic — in  the 
sense,  that  we  cannot  prove,  by  demonstration,  that 
there  is  either  heaven  or  hell. 

Again,  we  are  agnostic  concerning  the  staggering 
problem  of  the  existence  of  evil.  By  evil  I  mean 
both  sin  and  suffering.  As  I  came  down  to  the 
church  to-night  I  saw  the  newspaper  placards  about 
the  battle  which  has  been  raging  for  days  in  the  far 
East,  and  is  not  over  yet.  This  is  what  the  headlines 
said : — 

RUSSIAN  ROUT 


HORRIBLE  CARNAGE 


RIVERS  CHOKED  WITH  DEAD 

If  you  will  allow  your  imagination  to  rest  upon  those 
phrases  for  a  moment,  and  to  translate  you  to  the 
scene  where  those  events  are  taking  place,  you  will 
have  a  problem  to  which  no  philosopher  has  ever  yet 
been  equal.  In  its  presence  everyone  has  to  hold 
his  judgment  in  suspense.  He  can  give  no  opinion 
as  to  the  why  and  the  wherefore  of  these  things 
in  a  world  which  is  said  to  be  ruled  by  divine 
love,  the  governance  of  which  is  righteousness. 
But  two  days  ago  I  read  in  the  newspaper  some- 
thing that  would  touch  some  of  us  British  people 
more  nearly  still.  A  young  couple,  father  and 
mother,  were  putting  their  only  two  children 
to  bed.  One  of  them,  a  little  fellow,  leaping 


THE  AGNOSTICISM  OF  JESUS       287 

out  of  his  father's  arms  at  the  top  of  the  stairs, 
fell  to  the  bottom,  and  was  killed.  His  mother 
rushed  from  where  she  was  bathing  the  baby 
to  the  spot  where  the  tragical  fall  took  place,  and, 
in  her  agony,  casting  herself  upon  her  baby  boy, 
forgot  the  other.  When  she  returned  the  poor 
little  mite  was  drowned.  I  see  you  feel  just  as  I 
felt  when  I  read  that.  There  is  something  inexplic- 
able there.  None  of  us  can  see  any  possible  good 
in  a  discipline  of  that  kind — a  horrible,  crushing 
calamity.  Poor  father  !  Poor  mother !  They  must 
be  sufficient  for  each  other  to-night,  for  the  veil  has 
dropped — dropped  from  the  hand  of  death — not  only 
between  them  and  their  children,  but  between  them 
and  their  God.  On  a  larger  scale  similar  tragedies 
are  taking  place  everywhere.  It  may  be  questioned 
whether  there  is  anything  more  tragic  than  the 
bereavement  caused  by  the  shattering  of  the  bonds 
of  love.  It  is  just  because  we  are  made  capable  of 
affection  that  pain  can  strike  so  deep.  Who  can 
answer  the  problem  which  is  raised  thus  ?  None  of 
us.  You  can  but  stand  silent  in  the  presence  of 
that  awful  fact  to  which  all  flesh  is  heir. 

Outside  of  this  church  there  is  a  murder  going  on 
somewhere.  You  will  see  it  told  in  the  papers  to- 
morrow. Have  you  an  answer  for  the  problem  of 
human  depravity?  Nay,  you  need  not  go  outside 
the  church.  Stay  here.  What  burdens  have  been 
brought  into  this  place  ?  What  awful  resolves,  it 
may  be,  have  been  taken  by  some  worshipper  ere  he 


288       THE  AGNOSTICISM  OF  JESUS 

entered  the  door!  What  anguish  and  distress  of 
mind,  what  a  poignant  experience  is  someone's  who 
has  come  to  rest  for  a  little  while  in  the  company  of 
his  fellows  and  to  try  and  forget !  Oh  the  horrible 
pit  and  the  miry  clay !  You  are  very  quiet  as  I 
speak.  Some  of  you,  the  youngest  of  you,  have 
learned  to  be  quiet  in  the  presence  of  some  of  the 
dread  things  of  life ;  for,  young  as  you  are,  it  may 
be  hope  is  gone  and  you  are  of  those  whose  lot  is 
cast — 

"  With  those  who  watch  but  work  no  more, 
Who  gaze  on  life  but  live  no  more." 

Do  you  know  the  meaning  of  it  all?  I  do  not. 
Sometimes  I  think  I  can  lift  a  corner  of  the  curtain. 
There  is  one  thing — one  thing  only — which  gives 
hope  in  the  midst  of  trial,  and  it  is  the  experience  of 
the  Saviour.  He  knows,  even  in  sight  of  the  Cross 
and  in  spite  of  the  shame,  yea,  in  the  midst  of  the 
agony,  and  in  face  of  the  tomb,  that  it  is  well  with 
him  who  suffers  for  righteousness.  The  word  has 
been  spoken  from  the  unseen  to  the  deepest  in  His 
own  soul.  There  has  been  nothing  noble  but  its 
price  was  paid  in  pain ;  there  has  been  no  manhood 
worthy  of  the  name  but  it  was  born  in  the  furnace. 
Were  this  all,  it  would  be  poor  comfort,  even 
then ;  but  I  must  take  you  further  with  One  who 
had  a  higher  vision  than  mine.  These  things  were 
not  hidden  from  the  Great  Agnostic  in  Whose 
name  we  are  gathered.  What  had  Jesus  to  say 
about  them?  Almost  nothing  at  all.  Nothing? 


THE  AGNOSTICISM  OF  JESUS       289 

— nothing  about  whence  we  came  and  whither  we 
go?  nothing  about  meaningless  agony?  nothing 
about  human  depravity,  and  the  cause  thereof, 
and  the  end  thereof? — nothing?  No;  nothing 
that  would  be  evidence  in  the  laboratory,  but  much 
that  is  evidence  to  conscience.  Jesus  never  raised 
the  question  of  the  goodness  of  God ;  He  took 
that  for  granted,  and  lived  His  life  accordingly. 
Jesus  took  for  granted  the  essential  Tightness  of 
God's  doing.  His  pure  soul  reflected  the  Father's 
love,  and  the  Cross  could  not  destroy  His  faith  in 
it.  Jesus  never  discussed  whether  a  man  had  lived 
before  or  should  live  again.  Of  Himself  He  said, 
"Before  Abraham  was,  I  am."  To  those  who 
drew  near  to  Him  He  assumed  the  eternal  destiny 
of  every  soul,  and  it  is  to  pure  and  holy  lives  that 
the  same  revelation  is  made  to-day.  It  is  not 
necessarily  the  people  who  have  suffered  most  that 
are  the  most  faithless.  Now  and  then  you  meet 
a  man  who  has  been  turned  bitter  by  his  woe ; 
now  and  then  you  meet  a  lonely  soul  who  has 
lost  faith  in  the  kindness  of  the  Father  because  she 
has  been  robbed  of  love.  But  I  think  I  can  say 
that  those  I  have  known  who  have  suffered  most, 
upon  whom  God  has  laid  the  heaviest  burden,  who 
have  had  sorrow  heaped  on  sorrow,  agony  added 
to  agony,  till  Nature  could  bear  no  more,  have  not 
uncommonly  been  those  who  stood  nearest  to  the 
heart  of  Christ,  those  who  have  gazed  most  trust- 
fully into  the  Father's  face.  There  is  a  phenomenon 

T 


290       THE  AGNOSTICISM  OF  JESUS 

for  you :  the  person  who  lives  the  Christ-like  life 
in  the  atmosphere  of  loving  trust,  somehow,  in  spite 
of  the  agony — my  phrase  is  not  strong  enough 
— even  because  of  the  agony,  transforms  the  Cross 
into  a  crown  of  glory.  The  sufferers  know  not  the 
meaning  of  what  they  have  to  endure.  "  I  was 
dumb,  I  opened  not  my  mouth,  because  Thou  didst 
it."  Yet  listen  to  the  affirmation  of  the  man  of 
faith:  "Though  He  slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust  in 
Him."  What  kind  of  man  does  that  kind  of 
agnosticism  make  ?  I  challenge  you  to  tell  me 
whether  Huxley's  kind  has  done  better.  Has  it 
done  as  well? 

Now,  before  I  close — I  see  my  time  is  gone, 
and  I  have  not  said  half  I  wanted  to  say  to 
these  young  men  before  me,  to  whom  my  heart 
goes  out  in  brotherly  sympathy — before  I  close,  I 
leave  this  with  you.  It  is  no  begging  of  the  ques- 
tion or  dodging  of  the  issue.  That  I  say  I  know. 
Agnostic  you  must  be,  but  not  all  the  way  round. 
There  are  some  things  you  do  know,  even  if  no 
preacher  ever  uttered  them,  and  no  man  of  science 
considered  them.  What  kind  of  life  are  you  living 
amid  the  issues  that  you  clearly  understand  ?  In 
the  business  where  you  get  your  living  you  will 
meet  with  men  who  are  systematic  liars,  scheming 
for  their  own  ends.  You  say,  "It  is  a  bad  social 
system,  but  we  cannot  help  it ;  business  is  business. 
In  the  present  it  is  nothing  better  than  barbarism. 
We  are  longing,  yearning  for  a  better  day,  '  when 


THE  AGNOSTICISM  OF  JESUS       291 

men  shall  brothers  be '  in  the  market  as  they  are  at 
the  fireside  ;  but  at  the  present  there  must  be  falsity, 
hypocrisy,  suspicion."  Don't  believe  it.  The  social 
order  will  never  change  until  some  have  been  cruci- 
fied— it  may  be  you  are  one  amongst  the  number. 
You  dealt  with  a  man  yesterday  who  would  lie  his 
soul  away  to  gain  a  sovereign.  You  know  he  will 
get  the  better  of  you  by  sharp  practice  if  he  cannot 
by  fair.  The  motto  of  many  a  successful  man  of 
business  is  not  better  than  this:  "Get  there,  fairly 
if  you  can,  but  get  there."  You  have  your  place  to 
make,  and  to  keep  when  you  make  it.  Well,  now, 
if  I  were  to  say  to  that  man  who  yesterday  got  the 
better  of  you,  and  whose  whole  policy  and  maxim 
and  order  of  life  are  just  what  he  treated  you  to 
yesterday,  "I  know  something  better  for  you,"  and 
I  preached  unto  him  Christ  as  Paul  would  have  done 
it,  he  might  laugh  in  my  face.  "All  very  well,"  he 
would  say,  "perhaps  there  never  was  a  Jesus." 
Well,  I  might  manage  to  answer  that.  I  could  prove 
the  historicity  of  Jesus  as  easily  as  I  could  prove 
that  of  Lord  Palmerston,  and  the  evidence  is  just  as 
good.  "  Prove  then,  that  He  said  what  is  written 
in  the  gospels."  Very  well ;  I  am  willing  to  accept 
that  challenge,  too,  for  if  "  Jesus  "  did  not  speak 
the  message  attributed  to  Him,  the  man  who  did  is 
my  Christ.  "Then  prove  that  He  lives."  I  cannot. 
He  is  worthy  to  live ;  He  is  worthy  to  reign ;  and 
the  life  that  is  lived  along  that  line  is  a  triumphant 
life,  and  the  man  who  has  come  to  that  ideal  never 


292       THE  AGNOSTICISM  OF  JESUS 

finds  fault  with  his  destiny,  however  hard  it  may  be. 
He  sees  but  a  little  way  ;  but  that  is  enough.  These 
are  not  the  men  who  have  shrunk  from  arduous 
issues  nor  strenuous  conflicts ;  look  history  through, 
and  you  will  see  them  among  the  highest  and  the 
noblest  of  the  sons  of  men.  Agnostics,  but  agnostics 
like  the  author  of  the  hj  mn  who  wrote : — 

"  Keep  Thou  my  feet ;   I  do  not  ask  to  see 
The  distant  scene ;  one  step  enough  for  me/* 

Agnostics,  if  you  like,  about  nineteen-twentieths 
of  the  facts  of  life;  but  about  the  remaining 
twentieth  no  compromise  with  conscience.  Again, 
can  you  afford  to  be  agnostic  concerning,  let  me 
say  it,  the  worth  of  womanly  purity — your  sister, 
your  mother,  the  woman  whom  you  hope  to  make 
your  wife  ?  Give  a  logical  reason,  a  scientific 
reason ;  we  will  have  it  that  way.  Why  should 
you  feel  the  blush  of  shame  on  your  cheek  and 
the  mounting  of  indignation  to  your  face  if  you 
hear  a  man  say  a  word  about  these  sacred  names 
which  would  tend  to  diminish  your  reverence  for 
them  and  the  respect  which  is  their  due?  Why 
is  it?  You  will  have  to  go  deeper  than  scalpels 
and  microscopes  can  take  you  to  find  that.  It  is 
written  deep  down  in  your  heart  by  the  finger  of 
God.  He  was  there  to  write  it  Himself.  It  was 
from  the  divine  that  that  sentiment  sprang. 

Listen,  then,   you   who    are    trying  to  live  your 
life  without  Christ,  who  confess  yourselves   to  be 


THE  AGNOSTICISM  OF  JESUS       293 

without  a  working  faith.  You  are  not  quite  so 
bereft  as  you  thought.  Can  you  go  no  further? 
Can  you  afford  to  be  a  liar?  Can  you  afford  to 
be  unclean  ?  Agnostic  in  a  good  many  things,  you 
will  pause  before  you  are  agnostic  concerning  the 
things  of  truth  and  purity  and  right,  the  noblest 
manhood.  And  when  next  your  scoffer  says,  "  Who 
knows  whether  there  be  a  Christ  and  a  heaven  ? " 
answer  thus :  "  Are  you  taking  the  way  to  find 
out?"  "He  that  willeth  to  do  the  will  of  My 
Father  which  is  in  heaven,  he  shall  know  of  the 
teaching."  Live  like  a  man,  a  true  man  and  a 
brave,  in  the  region  where  you  cannot  afford  to  be 
agnostic.  You  will  find  that  region  is  a  little 
larger  by  the  time  we  meet  again. 

"  Power  was  with  him  in  the  night, 
Which  makes  the  darkness  and  the  light, 
And  dwells  not  in  the  light  alone." 

Listen,  my  friends  and  brothers !  I  am  taking 
you  back  to  Jesus  again.  He  was  agnostic,  just  as 
you  have  to  be,  about  some  of  the  most  obtrusive 
things  of  life.  Jesus  could  no  more  have  answered 
some  of  the  questions  I  have  mentioned  to  you 
than  you  can  answer  them  yourself.  What  will 
take  place  within  the  next  five  minutes  of  your 
life  ?  I  do  not  know.  What  will  be  the 
next  word  the  preacher  shall  speak?  You 
do  not  know.  What  is  there  waiting  for  you — 
black  or  golden  fate — to-morrow?  I  do  not  know; 


294       THE  AGNOSTICISM  OF  JESUS 

you    do   not    know.     Is   it  death  ?    is   it  life  ?  is  it 

sorrow?   is   it  joy?     We  do  not  know.  We    are 

agnostics  in  these  things  and  things  like  them,  but 

so  was  Jesus.  But,  as  a  saint  of  God  sang  just 
before  he  went  out  to  death — 

"  I  know  not  what  awaits  me, 
God  kindly  veils  mine  eyes." 

I  rest  upon  the  eternal  purpose.  It  is  well  with 
those  who  put  their  tru^t  in  Him,  well  with  those 
who  seek  to  walk  uprightly.  The  man  who  is  living 
a  pure  life  in  the  things  of  every  day  does  know 
something  then  about  the  meaning  of  life  and  its 
call  to  him.  Though  it  be  shrouded  in  mystery,  it 
"means  intensely  and  means  good";  and  to  face  it 
as  Jesus  faced  it,  and  live  it  as  Jesus  lived  it,  means 
that  the  things  we  know  by  being  true  and  faithful 
enable  us  to  wait  the  revelation  of  the  rest  without 
darkness  or  dread.  "  I  know  whom  I  have  believed, 
and  am  persuaded  that  He  is  able  to  keep  that  which 
I  have  committed  unto  Him  against  that  day."  "  We 
know  that  all  things  work  together  for  good  to  them 
that  love  God,  to  them  who  are  the  called  according 
to  His  purpose." 


ONENESS  WITH  GOD 


THIS  sermon  was  asked  for  by  some  of  the  young  men  who  had 
been  helped  and  set  thinking  by  the  previous  one  on  the  Agnos- 
ticism of  Jesus.  It  speaks  for  itself. 


XVII 

"  I  and  My  Father  are  one." — ST  JOHN  x.  30. 

THESE  words  of  Jesus  are  in  a  sense  a  summary  of  the 
Fourth  Gospel.  This  is  what  the  gospel  is  about, 
and  the  text  is  the  reason  why  it  was  written.  The 
writer  himself  tells  us  so.  "  These  things  are  written 
that  ye  may  believe  that  Jesus  is  the  Christ,  the  Son 
of  God,  and  that,  believing,  ye  might  have  life 
through  His  name."  What  is  chiefly  remarkable 
about  the  words  of  our  text  is  that  nearly  everyone 
who  hears  them  thinks  he  knows  what  they  mean, 
and  yet  their  simplest  interpretation  is  not  the  one 
that  is  usually  put  upon  them  first.  It  is  strange, 
too,  that  the  meaning  which  constitutes  their  chiefest 
value  is  the  one  that  is  usually  passed  over. 

What,  then,  are  we  to  say  this  sentence  does 
mean?  I  put  the  question  to  you,  and  no  doubt 
you  are  answering  it  mentally,  somewhat  in  anticipa- 
tion of  what  is  to  follow.  What  can  they  mean  ? 
One  might  say,  when  Jesus  declared,  "I  and  My 
Father  are  one,"  He  affirms  an  eternal  fact,  for  He 
Himself  is  the  Eternal  Son  of  the  Eternal  Father, 
the  express  image  of  God,  or,  as  the  Shorter  Cate- 
chism has  it,  "There  are  three  persons  in  the 
Godhead  j  the  Father,  the  Son,  and  the  Holy  Ghost ; 

297 


298  ONENESS  WITH  GOD 

and  these  three  are  one  God,  the  same  in  substance, 
equal  in  power  and  glory."  Or,  as  an  even  better- 
known  creed  has  it,  "There  are  not  three  incompre- 
hensibles  .  .  .  but  one."  I  say  everybody,  or  nearly 
everybody,  on  hearing  the  words  of  our  text,  would 
at  once  give,  in  conventional  language,  in  the  lan- 
guage of  someone  else  and  written  ages  ago,  some 
such  explanation  of  its  meaning.  Do  you  think  we 
have  made  it  clear  when  we  have  used  all  these 
words  about  it  ?  We  have  done  the  very  opposite. 
We  have  wrapped  it  up  in  symbols,  but  we  have  not 
come  to  close  quarters  with  it  and  gripped  it.  There 
is  nothing  more  certain  than  that  Jesus  employed 
these  words,  not  in  their  metaphysical  sense,  but  in 
their  moral  sense.  It  is  true  they  cannot  have  a 
moral  without  a  metaphysical  meaning,  but  it  is  the 
moral  meaning  upon  which  Jesus  laid  stress,  and  I  do 
not  think  that  those  who  heard  Him  mistook  His 
meaning.  He  took  pains  to  show  just  what  it  was. 
It  is  strange,  indeed,  that  the  context  of  this  sen- 
tence is  so  seldom  quoted.  "  Jesus  answered  them, 
Is  it  not  written  in  your  law,  I  said,  Ye  are  gods? 
If  He  called  them  gods  unto  whom  the  word  of  God 
came,  and  the  Scripture  cannot  be  broken ;  Say  ye 
of  Him,  whom  the  Father  hath  sanctified  and  sent 
into  the  world,  Thou  blasphemest ;  because  I  said,  I 
am  the  Son  of  God  ?  If  I  do  not  the  Works  of  My 
Father,  believe  Me  not."  These  are  the  evidences 
of  My  oneness  with  Him. 

If  I  may  venture  to  paraphrase  the  sacred  text,  I 


ONENESS  WITH  GOD  299 

should  say  His  remonstrance  in  every-day  English 
meant  something  like  this.  "  Why  are  you  so  sur- 
prised ?  Why  so  angry  that  I  have  said,  '  I  and  My 
Father  are  one  ? '  If  all  the  prophets,  if  all  the  royal 
men  of  history,  if  all  the  noble  ones  of  earth  have 
deserved  to  have  applied  to  them  this  phrase,  I  said, 
'Ye  are  gods,'  do  you  not  think  that  I,  by  My  very 
credentials,  have  some  right  to  use  the  phrase  like- 
wise ?  If  they  are  gods,  I  do  not  say  even  so  much." 
For  Jesus  never  in  so  many  words  said,  "I  am  God." 
If  we  have  affirmed  it,  and  we  cannot  help  it,  it  was 
not  because  He  claimed  it,  it  was  because  men  read 
Him,  His  credentials  were  clear  by  what  He  was. 
They  confirmed  His  utterance.  "I  and  My  Father 
are  one."  I  say  it  is  strange  that  the  context  is 
never  quoted,  for  by  this  assertion  Jesus  claimed 
divinity  for  manhood. 

Still  further,  He  asserted  that  everything  that  was 
good  witnessed  for  human  oneness  in  God.  "  If  any 
royal  men  deserved  the  title  Godlike,  then,"  said 
Jesus,  "  surely  I  may  claim,  if  I  do  always  the  things 
which  please  Him,  oneness  with  My  Father."  All 
discussion  as  to  His  metaphysical  status  is  beside  the 
mark.  His  credentials  were  in  the  purity  and  noble- 
ness of  His  character  and  work.  He  said  well, 
"  For  which  of  these  works  do  you  stone  Me  ? "  He 
was  and  is  one  with  the  Father  in  spirit  and  purpose, 
heart  and  will. 

You  will  observe  that  I  have  left  a  question  un- 
discussed,  the  pre-existence  of  Christ  I  have  not 


300  ONENESS  WITH  GOD 

mentioned;  His  lordship,  other  than  in  the  moral 
sense,  I  have  not  touched.  Jesus  may  have  been 
from  all  eternity  at  the  right  hand  of  God.  He 
never  thrust  that  fact  upon  His  hearers,  but  what 
He  did  press  upon  their  attention  and  seek  to  enforce 
by  the  lesson  of  His  life  was  this — humanity  is  meant 
to  rest  in  the  bosom  of  God.  It  should  be  true  of 
all  men,  and  He  came  to  help  to  make  it  true,  that 
they  could  say,  as  He  said,  u  I  and  My  Father  are 
one."  Learn,  then,  that  the  reason  why  these  words 
were  ever  spoken  was  to  lead  mankind  to  realise  its 
oneness  with  God.  For  this  we  were  created,  and 
to  this  we  must  attain.  When  we  shall  see  Jesus, 
as  I  trust  we  shall  all  see  Him,  face  to  face,  we  shall 
never  ask  the  question,  the  thought  will  not  occur 
to  us  whether  He  is  man  or  God.  The  absurdity  of 
the  inquiry  by  that  time  will  be  clear.  No  such 
question,  I  say,  will  occur  to  us.  No  creed  will  rise 
to  our  lips.  It  is  just  as  true  of  heaven  to  say 
there  shall  be  no  creed  there  as  to  say  there 
shall  be  no  night  there.  Creed  will  have  become 
experience,  and  faith  will  have  become  sight.  It  is 
related,  I  think  of  Charles  Lamb  (I  speak  subject  to 
correction),  that,  in  company  with  some  others,  when 
the  person  of  Christ  and  His  status  in  the  ranks  of 
humanity  was  under  consideration,  Lamb  spoke  thus 
— "  If  any  of  the  worthies  of  antiquity,  a  Socrates, 
a  Shakespeare,  a  Luther,  were  to  enter  this  room,  we 
should  all  stand,  but  if  that  Other  came,  we  should 
all  kneel."  You  feel,  without  my  having  to  add  one 


ONENESS  WITH  GOD  301 

rhetorical  word,  the  irresistible,  invincible  truth  of 
that  assertion.  If  Jesus  Christ  stood  where  I  stand 
now — and  I  verily  believe  He  does — and  our  eyes 
were  opened  to  see  Him,  the  King  in  His  beauty, 
not  a  scoffer  in  this  Church  would  curl  his  lip  in  the 
presence  of  the  Son  of  God.  For  since  that  day 
when  the  Jews  took  up  stones  to  stone  Him,  humanity 
has  come  to  know  what  Christ  really  was,  and  the 
riddle  they  could  not  read,  and  the  glory  they  could 
not  see,  and  the  moral  grandeur  to  which  they  were 
not  susceptible,  are  revealed  plainly  to  the  gaze  of 
all  men.  It  now  knows  what  Jesus  was,  and  the 
question  of  His  metaphysical  origin  and  the  question 
of  His  status  in  the  Godhead  never  would  have  been 
debated  if  it  had  not  been  for  His  moral  value  to 
mankind.  For  the  present,  then,  His  value  to  us  is 
that  in  Him  we  can  see  what  God  is.  To  all  eternity 
you  and  I  may  be  growing  in  the  knowledge  of  God's 
ways,  you  will  never  have  to  grow  any  wiser  in  the 
knowledge  of  God's  heart  once  you  have  seen  Jesus. 
We  know  Him  now  for  what  He  is.  We  realise  the 
goodness  of  the  Father  in  the  transparency  of  the 
character  of  the  Christ.  And  still  more — have  you 
ever  realised  it  ? — it  is  a  creed  that  is  worth  your 
while — to  all  eternity  you  will  never  find  that  God 
the  Father  is  any  better  than  was  the  earthly  Jesus. 
That  is  the  value  of  the  Christ,  and  what  He  came 
to  reveal,  and  our  souls  respond  to  it  now  with  earnest- 
ness and  humility — His  oneness  with  God  in  heart, 
in  purpose,  mind,  and  will.  "  He  that  hath  seen  Me 


302  ONENESS  WITH  GOD 

hath  seen  the  Father."  "I  and  My  Father  are 
one." 

This,  I  say,  is  to  be  your  destiny  too.  God  and 
humanity  are  one.  God  is  infinitely  more,  but  He 
has  never  withdrawn  from  your  life,  or  else  there 
would  be  no  life  at  all.  Some  day  the  will  of 
which  you  boast  yourself  now,  the  freedom  that 
you  enjoy  and  misuse,  will  be  gone,  for  if  you  have 
learned  Christ,  all  your  goodness  will  be  spon- 
taneous, you  will  not  pause  to  consider  or  even 
struggle  before  you  do  the  right,  and  when  you 
have  done  it  there  will  be  no  question  of  your  will 
and  God's  will.  It  will  all  be  His.  Glad  freedom 
when  will  is  dead !  When  sin  is  done  away  and 
time  shall  be  no  more,  men  will  no  longer  talk  about 
humanity  and  divinity;  but  God,  heaven,  mankind 
will  be  at  one,  and  you  shall  say,  even  as  Christ  has 
been  teaching  you  to  say,  "  I  and  my  Father  are  one." 

As  I  was  on  my  way  to  Africa,  I  heard  a  little 
fellow  pestering  his  mother  to  tell  him  when  he 
would  see  the  sea.  She  was  pointing  it  out  to  him, 
"There  is  the  sea,  my  child,  there  is  the  sea,  all 
around  the  ship."  That  did  not  satisfy  the  little 
man.  Pointing  with  his  finger,  now  north,  now 
south,  now  east,  now  west,  he  kept  on  asking,  "Is 
that  the  sea,  is  that  the  sea,  mamma  ? "  And  her 
answer  was  invariably,  with  the  patience  of  mother- 
hood, "Yes,  that  is  the  sea."  The  puzzled  ex- 
pression on  the  little  fellow's  face  told  me  what  was 
in  his  mind.  To  him  that  was  only  water,  and  he 


ONENESS  WITH  GOD  303 

wondered  when  the  point  would  come  when  that 
which  was  distinctively  the  sea,  the  unfamiliar  com- 
pared with  that  with  which  he  had  been  familiar  all 
his  life,  would  come  into  his  vision.  He  could  not 
see  the  ocean  for  the  water.  There  is  an  old  saying 
that  sometimes  we  cannot  see  the  wood  for  the 
trees.  The  little  child  who  picks  a  daisy  may  need 
to  be  reminded  that  it  is  a  flower.  Is  it  a  daisy  or 
a  flower,  is  it  water  or  the  sea,  the  trees  or  the 
forest,  humanity  or  God?  So  may  He  grant  that 
you  and  I  may  live  the  life  in  which  the  very  ques- 
tion becomes  impossible.  "  I  and  my  Father  are  one." 
That  the  writer  of  the  Fourth  Gospel  saw  this 
is  perfectly  clear  from  what  he  has  written  else- 
where. Does  the  sentence  I  am  going  to  quote 
have  a  more  familiar  and  present  value  now  we  have 
been  meditating  together — listen.  "  Beloved,  now 
are  we  sons  of  God,  and  it  doth  not  yet  appear 
what  we  shall  be,  but  we  know  that  when  He — or 
rather,  it — shall  appear,  we  shall  be  like  Him,  for 
we  shall  see  Him  as  He  is."  May  I  go  on?  "Be- 
hold, the  tabernacle  of  God  is  with  men,  and  He 
shall  dwell  with  them,  and  they  shall  be  His  people, 
and  God  Himself  shall  be  with  them,  and  be  their 
God,  and  God  shall  wipe  away  all  tears  from  their 
eyes.  And  there  shall  be  no  more  sorrow,  nor 
crying,  neither  shall  there  be  any  more  pain,  for 
the  former  things  are  passed  away." 

"  When  a  soul  has  seen, 
By  the  means  of  evil  that  good  is  best, 


304  ONENESS  WITH  GOD 

And  through  earth  and  its  noise  what  is  heaven's  serene, 

When  our  faith  in  the  same  has  stood  the  test, 

Why  the  child  grown  man  you  burn  the  rod 

The  uses  of  labour  are  surely  done, 

There  remaineth  a  rest  for  the  people  of  God, 

And  I  have  had  troubles  enough  for  one." 

uHear,  O  Israel,  the  Lord  thy  God,  the  Lord  is 
one  and  thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all 
thy  heart,  and  with  all  thy  soul,  and  with  all  thy 
strength,  and  with  all  thy  mind."  Here  is  the  rule 
and  the  way  of  life  to  men  who  have  learned  to 
know  that  love  is  the  fulfilling  of  the  law,  the  funda- 
mental secret  of  the  universe.  All  is  love,  all  is 
God.  "  I  and  My  Father  are  one." 

I  say,  then,  this  is  our  hope  and  this  is  the 
meaning  of  our  life,  with  all  its  light  and  shadow, 
sorrow  and  joy,  good  and  ill.  I  am  talking  to  you 
very  quietly  to-night,  as  though  there  were  but  one 
person  present,  and  we  are  conversing  heart  to 
heart  upon  the  deep  things  of  life.  We  are — 
permit  the  paradox — one  and  all,  in  living  our  life, 
struggling  back  to  a  place  we  have  never  left  in 
the  heart  of  God.  Bad  as  you  are,  many  of  you, 
foolish  as  you  may  be,  sin-stained  as  you  know 
yourselves  to  be,  God  has  never  let  you  go.  It 
was  a  sinful  man  who  wrote,  "  Whither  shall  I  go 
from  Thy  spirit,  whither  shall  I  flee  from  Thy 
presence  ?  If  I  ascend  up  into  heaven,  Thou  art 
there,  if  I  make  my  bed  in  hell,  behold,  Thou  art 
there."  "  I  and  My  Father  are  one."  To  Him, 
amidst  our  sins,  are  His  children  dear. 


ONENESS  WITH  GOD  305 

Now,  brethren,  I  have  unfolded  my  theme,  and 
I  trust  you  see  my  meaning.  I  want  to  know 
whether  we  understand  Christ's  purpose  in  uttering 
this  sentence.  He  did  not  utter  it  to  glorify  Him- 
self. He  did  not  wrangle  with  the  Jews  to  gain 
a  dialectical  victory.  He  was  aiming  at  something. 
What  was  it?  Let  the  context  tell.  If,  said  He, 
you  have  said  of  the  great  ones  of  the  earth,  the 
great  and  the  good,  Ye  are  gods — and  it  is  a  phrase 
that  often  springs  to  our  lips ;  we  use  it  even  now 
when  we  see  one  whose  moral  stature  is  higher 
than  his  fellows,  a  godlike  man — if  you  use  that 
phrase  concerning  them,  may  I  not  humbly  claim 
it  for  one  whom  God  hath  sanctified  and  sent  to 
bring  you  into  life.  Learn  it  well.  The  works 
do  testify  that  "  I  am  the  way,  the  truth,  and  the 
life."  Every  man  may  enter  into  this  experience 
of  the  oneness  of  God.  Even  very  ordinary  human 
nature  has  had  power  with  some  of  you  to  touch 
at  least  a  corner  of  this  life.  I  remember  one 
night  in  particular  when  I  stood  at  this  desk,  as 
I  am  standing  now,  a  young  fellow  sat  upon  my 
right  in  the  chair  nearest  to  me,  and  he  afterwards 
came  to  tell  me  this.  I  give  the  substance  of  his 
words.  "I  came  into  the  Church  that  night 
with  a  heavy  burden  on  my  conscience,  and  a  clammy 
fear  gripping  at  my  heart.  I  was  struggling  as 
it  seemed  in  vain  and  in  awful  dread  of  falling 
before  a  certain  temptation.  I  came  there  hoping 
that  the  preacher  might  turn  to  me  and  speak." 


3o6  ONENESS  WITH  GOD 

It  just  happened  that  when  the  service  was  over 
I  did  turn,  a  thing  I  do  not  do  once  in  a  hundred 
times,  and  spoke  a  word  to  the  one  who  sat  nearest 
to  me  in  our  common  worship.  I  little  knew  what 
was  taking  place.  Idealising  the  preacher  whom 
he  thought  he  knew,  he  felt  as  if  new  strength 
had  entered  into  him.  He  fought  his  battle  on 
the  morrow.  He  felt  as  if  it  were  already  won. 
He  felt  as  if  he  could  take  heart  of  grace  and  try 
again.  Where  do  you  think  the  real  strength  came 
from?  It  is  often  so  in  ordinary  life.  That  man 
was  lifted  nearer  God  because  he  was  in  the  house 
of  prayer;  and  as  he  fell  under  the  shadow  of 
another's  spirit,  did  deity  shine  through  humanity, 
very  ordinary  humanity,  or  did  it  not?  Let  the 
works  be  the  evidence. 

Here  is  a  man  who  owes  everything  he  has  in 
the  world  to  the  example  of  a  good  mother  or  a 
good  father.  You  would  have  gone  to  the  devil 
long  ago,  young  man,  but  on  the  threshold  of  the 
gambling  hell  or  of  the  liquor  saloon,  which  does 
a  roaring  trade  on  a  Sunday  night,  you  were  arrested 
by  an  invisible  hand.  Your  mother's  arm  stretched 
a  long  way,  but  it  was  strong  enough  to  draw  you 
back  from  the  things  of  hell  Be  thankful  now 
you  are  stronger,  be  thankful — and  you  are  thank- 
ful— that  your  manhood  is  what  it  is.  The  life, 
pure,  consecrated  life,  had  power  to  bring  you  up 
to  God.  Did  God  shine  through  such  a  life  or 
did  He  not?  I  have  heard  men  say  of  father, 


ONENESS  WITH  GOD  307 

mother,  friend,  "  My  mother's  life,  my  father's 
manhood,  my  friend's  goodness  persuaded  me — 
even  though  my  evil  self  would  have  ruined  me — 
persuaded  me  God  reigneth."  Seeking  for  a  symbol 
for  God,  you  need  not  go  beyond  your  own  home 
and  your  mother.  Say,  "  She  and  my  Father  are 
one,"  in  the  love  that  she  bears  for  you  and  the 
goodness  that  saved  you.  "I  and  My  Father  are 
one." 

Even  in  ordinary  humanity,  then,  such  as  I  have 
instanced,  we  have  our  sacred  seasons  when  we 
feel  that  humanity  has  not  lost  everything,  and 
all  opportunity  of  showing  God.  I  have  looked  on 
the  faces  of  men  whose  kindred  I  knew,  and  yet 
who  had  sunken  in  infamy.  I  remember  a  man 
whose  face  was  a  mass  of  corruption  coming  to  me 
without  disclosing  his  identity,  but  I  knew  him,  I 
knew  him  for  the  man  I  was  in  search  of,  and  why  ? 
It  was  because  I  saw  his  father's  face,  I  recognised 
his  brother's  features.  He  had  done  his  best  to 
drink  them  into  oblivion,  but  he  had  not  managed 
it  quite.  They  were  not  gone.  The  air  of  a 
gentleman  was  still  upon  him,  and  the  noble  dignity 
of  those  who  bore  his  name  and  were  of  his  lineage 
was  evident  in  his  very  demeanour.  A  poor 
drunkard,  and  perhaps  worse,  but  there  was  shining 
through  him  a  noble  humanity,  figure  of  deity, 
the  "love  that  will  not  let  me  go." 

But  the  other  day,  in  that  terrible  war  that  is 
taking  place  in  the  Far  East,  an  august  event  took 


308  ONENESS  WITH  GOD 

place.  Two  Japanese  officers  arrested  as  spies, 
condemned  to  death,  asked  as  a  last  privilege  to 
be  permitted  to  give  what  little  worldly  wealth  they 
possessed  for  the  sake  of  the  widows  and  children 
of  the  Russian  dead.  The  very  startling  surprise  of 
the  deed  stirred  a  chord  of  sympathy  and  admiration 
for  our  common  humanity  in  those  who  heard  the 
offer  and  in  us  who  read  it.  What  was  it  ?  Amid 
the  horror  of  war,  the  blackness  and  hideousness 
of  the  devilry  in  that  hell  upon  earth,  in  that  little 
corner  of  the  Far  East,  shone  out  a  bright  star. 
Humanity  was  capable  of  something  divine  in  a 
golden  moment.  I  have  seen  as  much  myself  in 
the  deeds,  in  the  carriage  of  ordinary  men  and 
women,  very  ill  to  live  with,  people  for  whom  in 
their  everyday  life  one  could  not  entertain  or  mani- 
fest much  respect.  I  have  seen  the  impulsive  act 
of  a  bad  man  elevate  him.  I  have  seen  the  light 
of  heaven  dawn  in  beauty  upon  the  face  of  one 
whose  whole  career  had  been  for  self-interest  and 
for  the  things  that  perished,  but  that  look  spoke 
of  heaven,  not  of  earth.  And,  amongst  the  very 
worst  with  whom  you  have  to  deal,  you  will  see 
from  time  to  time,  when  the  crisis  is  at  hand,  the 
manifestation  of  that  which  is  worthy  of  God. 
What  a  man  is  in  his  best  moments,  that  God  has 
made  him  capable  of  being  for  ever.  That  he  must 
and  shall  become,  even  though  it  be  through  pain. 
"  I  and  My  Father  are  one." 

One  word  of  application.     I  would  appeal  to  some 


ONENESS  WITH  GOD  309 

of  the  non-Churchgoers  who  are  present.  I  do  not 
say  I  am  going  to  make  you  Churchgoers,  but  I 
wish  I  could  make  you  good  men.  Here  you  come, 
brought  perhaps  by  curiosity,  to  hear  one  who  has 
never  raised  his  voice  to  a  shout  since  you  entered 
the  building,  who  has  not  uttered  a  sensational  word, 
who  has  not  spoken  a  sentence  just  for  the  sake  of 
speaking.  Hither  you  come,  fresh  from  the  great 
fight  for  bread,  for  a  footing  in  the  great  world. 
You  are  supposed  to  take  a  poor  view  of  humanity 
and  its  ways.  You  are  pretty  hard  yourself,  coarse, 
material,  worldly.  You  are  what  would  be  called 
practical  men.  There  is  not  much  sentiment  to 
spare,  you  have  no  vision  of  God  and  no  aspiration 
for  a  better  and  a  higher  life.  Do  not  be  untrue 
to  the  very  law  of  your  own  being.  You  know 
quite  well  in  your  heart  of  hearts  you  would  rather 
be  like  Jesus  than  like  what  you  are.  If  you 
knew  the  way  out  of  the  life  you  are  living,  not 
that  it  is  so  flagrantly  bad,  as  the  world  judges, 
but  if  you  knew  your  way  to  a  better  and  you 
could  go  without  struggle  and  without  sacrifice,  you 
would  go.  What  is  it  that  speaks  thus?  God 
has  never  left  you,  nor  the  Christ,  the  Christ  that 
is  within.  Do  you  not  feel  that  this  is  what  the 
universe  means  ?  Do  you  not  realise  that  this  is 
the  purpose,  the  real  purpose,  of  your  poor  little 
sinful  failure  of  a  life,  that  you  may  say,  as  Jesus 
said,  "I  and  My  Father  are  one."  To  be  one  with 
right,  to  be  one  with  heroism,  to  be  one  with  good- 


3io  ONENESS  WITH  GOD 

ness,  to  be  one  with  the  manhood  that  you  can 
respect  and  reverence  and  adore,  that  should  be 
the  aim  and  object  of  your  life.  Do  you  know  the 
way  to  it  ?  I  think,  though  you  may  say  I  have  lapsed 
back  into  conventionality  and  taken  too  much  for 
granted,  I  can  take  you  to  no  better  place  than  the 
cross  of  Christ.  What  did  it  cost  Him  to  follow 
the  right  ?  What  did  it  mean  to  live  what  He  felt 
to  be  the  true  life  of  oneness  with  God  ?  It  meant 
Calvary.  Ah,  there  is  the  place  to  which  poor 
human  nature  is  unwilling  to  go.  It  might  cost 
you  a  Calvary  to  turn  from  your  corrupt,  evil  ways 
to-morrow  and  go  right,  and  you  are  not  prepared 
for  the  price.  Then  be  aware  that  as  you  turn 
your  back  upon  the  light,  as  you  repudiate  the 
Christ  you  are  not  merely  repudiating  a  creed,  you 
are  repudiating  the  ideal.  You  have  deliberately 
chosen  the  lower,  not  that  which  is  humanity,  but 
that  which  is  bestial.  You  have  turned  your  back 
upon  heaven,  you  are  choosing  hell.  Do  you  think 
that  is  the  way  to  peace  and  rest  and  joy?  It  can 
never  be.  Face  round,  cost  what  it  may  in  soul 
agony.  It  is  worth  all  that  you  can  give  to  be  able 
to  say  with  a  clear  conscience  and  a  humble  heart, 
"  I  and  My  Father  are  one." 

Here  is  another,  a  sore,  burdened,  stricken  heart. 
What  are  you  doing  in  the  City  Temple?  You 
have  never  been  so  very  religious  before,  and  you 
have  not  come  here  because  we  talk  platitudes,  no, 
nor  because  we  take  for  granted  the  experience  of 


ONENESS  WITH  GOD  311 

other  men.  It  may  be  an  inspiration,  but  we  will 
not  strike  the  false  note  of  pretending  it  is  ours 
unless  it  is.  Hither  you  have  come,  filled  with 
vengeful,  angry,  evil  thoughts.  You  have  failed  in 
life,  not  entirely  of  your  own  fault.  You  have 
suffered  injury,  you  have  no  vision  of  God,  any 
more  than  the  worldly  man  whom  I  have  just 
described.  You  are  groping  along  in  the  dark. 
Every  blow  you  strike,  remember,  even  in  your 
thought,  recoils  upon  you.  You  deny  your  own 
dignity,  you  crush  down  your  own  divinity.  The 
first  thing  for  you  to  do,  and  this  night,  is  to  get 
at  one,  not  with  the  world,  but  with  God,  to  get 
the  better,  not  of  the  man  who  struck  you  down, 
but  of  the  evil  self  that  resents  the  injury.  Rise  up, 
child  of  the  highest,  though  Apollyon  meet  you  in 
the  Valley  of  Humiliation,  defy  him  in  the  name  of 
the  Lord  of  Hosts.  That  you  have  a  hard  battle  to 
fight  I  know.  It  is  no  new  thing  in  the  history  of 
mankind,  and  I  would  have  you  aware  that  you  are 
not  alone  in  doing  it.  "  All  nature,"  as  Henry 
Drummond  says,  "  is  on  the  side  of  the  man  who 
tries  to  rise."  Take  courage  for  to-morrow.  Fear 
nothing.  Calvary  is  never  the  last  word.  Be 
brave  and  faithful,  for  on  the  dark  waters  of  life 
there  sails  another  barque  than  yours.  It  may  be 
hidden  from  you  by  the  shadows,  but  its  Captain 
is  the  Son  of  God.  Jesus  has  not  forgotten  His 
own  humanity,  nor  has  He  ceased  to  care  for  yours. 
He  can  move  Heaven  for  you,  and  He  will. 


3i2  ONENESS  WITH  GOD 

I  am  calling  for  a  very  simple  decision.  Say  "  I 
will  go  right,  I  will  be  true.  If  I  have  never  been 
at  ease  with  my  own  conscience  and  with  God 
before,  I  mean  to  be  now."  "  I  and  My  Father  are 
one."  That  vow  is  registered  in  heaven,  and  it  is 
heard  by  One  Who  has  never  failed  the  seeking 
soul. 

"  Strong  Son  of  God,  immortal  Love, 

Whom  we,  that  have  not  seen  Thy  face, 
By  faith,  and  faith  alone  embrace, 
Believing  where  we  cannot  prove  ; 

"  Thou  seemest  human  and  divine, 

The  highest,  holiest  manhood,  Thou  : 
Our  wills  are  ours,  we  know  not  how ; 
Our  wills  are  ours,  to  make  them  Thine." 


INWARD  TRUTH 


AN  interesting  story  goes  along  with  this  sermon.  Attendants 
at  the  City  Temple  may  remember  that  on  the  Thursday  following 
the  preaching  of  this  particular  sermon,  I  read  and  spoke  about 
the  poignant  letter  of  one  who  had  felt  himself  described  in  the 
experience  here  set  forth.  He  was  an  educated  man,  and  his  way 
of  telling  his  story  showed  that  he  possessed  great  natural  ability. 
He  declared  his  intention  of  ending  his  own  life,  which  had 
become  intolerable  through  his  depressing  failures.  He  had 
somehow  slipped  down  gradually  from  a  position  of  trust  and 
importance  ;  had  ceased  to  be  respected  by  his  friends  ;  was 
looked  upon  as  a  burden  ;  was  shunned  by  his  own  family  ;  even 
his  children  had  learned  to  look  upon  him  with  the  world's  eyes. 
The  keenest  thrust  of  all  was  that  he  now  saw,  or  fancied  he  saw, 
a  change  in  his  wife's  attitude  towards  him.  This  was  not 
wonderful,  he  declared,  for  though  she  had  been  a  brave,  faithful, 
uncomplaining  friend,  she  could  hardly  fail  to  see  him  at  length  as 
her  children  saw  him.  He  made  no  appeal  for  help,  and  did  not 
even  furnish  his  address.  The  letter,  as  a  whole,  is  worth  quoting, 
but  the  closing  sentence  is  sufficient  to  show  its  purport  : — 
**  If  my  epitaph  were  to  be  written  it  would  be :  Here  lies  one 
who  trifled  with  life,  who  had  abundant  opportunities  for  usefulness 
and  honour,  who  might  have  been  a  power  for  God,  a  blessing  to 
humanity  and  others,  a  witness  for  righteousness,  but  who  was  none 
of  these  because  he  lacked — Inward  Truth." 

This  letter  became  my  subject  and  my  sermon  on  the  follow- 
ing Thursday ;  and  the  writer,  broken  down  by  the  unexpected 
declaration  of  God's  mercy  and  love,  came  to  me  afterwards,  as 
I  had  asked  him  to  do.  Half  a  dozen  hands  were  held  out  by 
the  city  men  present  to  give  him  a  fresh  start.  No  one  had  been 
asked  to  help,  but  the  help  was  freely  given  by  good  men.  My 
colleague,  Mr  Badger,  acted  as  intermediary,  as  he  has  done  in 
many  similar  cases,  with  the  result  that  to-day  this  gentleman  is 
not  only  doing  well  in  the  world,  but  is  helping  others  to  under- 
stand the  meaning  of  Inward  Truth.  He  was  well  worth  the 
miracle  wrought  by  our  Heavenly  Father  on  his  behalf. 


XVIII 

"Behold,  thou  desirest  truth  in  the  inward  parts." — PSALM  li.  6. 

THE  5ist  Psalm  is  a  hymn  of  penitence,  and  is  said 
to  have  been  written  by  King  David  after  the 
greatest  folly  and  the  darkest  sin  of  his  life.  It  is 
possible  that  he  was  not  the  author,  but,  whether 
he  was  or  not,  this  utterance  of  sorrowing  self- 
accusation  has  become  intimately  associated  with  all 
such  spiritual  moods  as  his,  and  has  woven  itself  into 
our  hearts  and  experience.  It  is  a  prayer  of  singular 
beauty  as  well  as  moral  depth  and  religious  signi- 
ficance. The  Psalmist  ignores  the  question  of 
penalty  for  his  misdoings,  and  they  were  black 
enough :  it  is  God  he  wants  and  the  purity  he  has 
lost.  "The  sacrifices  of  God,"  he  says,  "are  a 
broken  spirit.  A  broken  and  a  contrite  heart,  O 
God,  Thou  wilt  not  despise." 

This  utterance  explains  the  meaning  of  the  phrase 
which  is  our  text.  No  external  act  counts  for  any- 
thing ;  God  measures  by  the  inner  Tightness — a 
heart  right  with  God  and  goodness,  purity  and 
righteousness.  The  prayer  of  the  Psalmist  is, 
"  Create  in  me  a  clean  heart,  O  God,  and  renew  a 
right  spirit  within  me." 

In  these  days  the  sense  of  sin  is  somewhat  lightly 

315 


3i6  INWARD  TRUTH 

held  by  many  people,  while  in  others  it  seems  to  be 
entirely  absent.  Nevertheless,  there  is  in  every  man 
a  something  which  in  its  protest  for  truth  comes 
very  near  to  the  lost  sense  of  sin.  I  am  going  to  try 
to  show  you  what  this  something  is. 

The  word  "  truth "  in  our  text  refers  to  moral 
truth.  Truth  is  one  and  indivisible,  but  it  has  many 
aspects.  For  example,  suppose  I  could  hand  a  rose 
to  three  such  men  as  Professor  Huxley,  John 
Ruskin,  and  C.  H.  Spurgeon,  and  ask  them  to  say 
what  they  knew  about  it  or  thought  concerning  it. 
Professor  Huxley — I  purposely  choose  him,  because 
he  was  a  man  of  sterling  worth  and  high  moral 
character  as  well  as  a  great  scientist  and  accomplished 
botanist — would  instantly  think  of  the  structure  of 
the  rose,  and  tell  us  about  its  anatomy ;  in  fact,  his 
knowledge  of  natural  law  was  so  profound  that  from 
his  acquaintance  with  the  rose  the  professor  could 
infer  the  universe  if  he  had  not  seen  it.  Mr  Ruskin 
would  speak  quite  differently.  We  know,  from  the 
eloquence  of  his  writings,  the  charm  and  the  magic 
of  his  work,  that  his  first  thought  would  be  concern- 
ing the  beauty  of  the  flower ;  a  universe  of  beauty 
would  be  suggested  to  him  by  the  simple  rose. 
Remember,  the  rose  is  but  a  symbol ;  it  stands  for 
the  glorious,  infinite  unity,  and  to  John  Ruskin  that 
unity  would  breathe  beauty.  What  of  Mr  Spurgeon  ? 
It  has  been  said  of  him  that,  in  his  maturest  days, 
when  he  knew  most  about  men  and  things,  when  he 
had  drunk  deepest  of  the  cup  of  life,  when  his 


INWARD  TRUTH  317 

experience  was  at  its  very  richest,  he  was  as  simple 
as  a  child  in  his  handling  of  the  things  of  God. 
They  say  that  when  he  took  a  flower  in  his  hand  he 
would  speak  about  it  as  though  he  had  seen  it 
made,  had  watched  the  fingers  of  God  at  work  upon 
it.  To  him  the  flower  would  suggest  a  universe, 
too,  just  as  to  Huxley  and  to  Ruskin,  but  it  would 
be  a  universe  of  righteousness,  a  universe  that  told 
of  the  love  of  God.  These  three  men  would  not  be 
singing  three  different  songs,  telling  three  different 
truths ;  they  would  be  speaking  one  truth,  but  from 
three  different  points  of  view.  To  Huxley  the  rose 
would  suggest  the  physical  universe,  to  Ruskin  the 
universe  of  beauty,  and  to  Spurgeon  the  universe  of 
moral  truth ;  but  these  three  are  one,  and  ultimately 
the  meaning  of  the  whole  is,  God  is  love  as  well  as 
power,  God  is  goodness  as  well  as  beauty.  As 
Tennyson  has  it:  — 

"  Knowledge  is  the  swallow  on  the  lake 

That  sees  and  stirs  the  surface  shadow  there, 
But  never  yet  hath  dipt  into  the  abysm  " ; 

or,  as  Keats  puts  it : — 

"  *  Beauty  is  truth,  truth  beauty  ' — that  is  all 
Ye  know  on  earth,  and  all  ye  need  to  know." 

The  physical,  the  intellectual,  the  moral  universe  are 
but  one. 

When  a  man  says,  "I  follow  truth  wheresoever  I 
find  it,  and  for  that  reason  I  am  unable  to  accept 
your  affirmations  about  God,"  I  should  like  to  test 


3i8  INWARD  TRUTH 

him  by  the  standard  of  Mr  Spurgeon  rather  than 
that  of  Professor  Huxley — sterling  man  though  he 
undoubtedly  was — and  ask  him,  What  kind  of  man 
are  you  ?  for  the  universe  will  reflect  to  you  exactly 
what  you  bring  to  it.  What  kind  of  life  are  you 
living  ?  Are  you  a  good  man  ?  Are  you  living  a 
right  life  ?  Are  you  even  trying  to  do  so  ?  Are 
you  looking  upward  every  day?  Is  duty  nobly 
and  faithfully  done  your  watchword  ?  Then,  though 
you  may  not  be  able  to  affirm  much  concerning 
the  structure  or  the  meaning  of  God's  great  mys- 
terious universe,  you  are  at  home  in  it,  you  have 
truth  in  the  inward  parts,  and  there  God  speaks  to 
you.  By  saying  I  want  to  know  what  kind  of 
man  he  is,  I  am  inferring  that  he  does  not  know 
his  own  world  unless  he  himself  is  true  at  heart. 

We  in  this  country  profess  a  great  love  of  truth 
in  the  shape  of  integrity,  verbal  trustworthiness, 
and  so  on;  our  standard  is  not  very  exacting,  but 
we  could  not  get  on  at  all  without  it.  To  business 
men  such  a  proposition  as  that  is  self-evident.  When 
I  was  in  America  last  year  I  was  somewhat  amused 
by  criticisms  I  heard  of  our  business  methods. 
More  than  once  I  met  with  the  statement,  "We 
are  sorry  to  say  that  very  often  we  cannot  trust 
to  British  ways  of  doing  business  and  what  your 
business  men  say  about  their  stock-in-trade."  My 
reply  was,  "Oddly  enough,  that  is  exactly  what  I 
heard  on  the  other  side  of  the  water  about  you ! " 
It  is  a  matter  of  grave  concern  to  both  Britons  and 


INWARD  TRUTH  319 

Americans  who  love  their  country  that  in  commerce 
there  is  not  more  of  the  virtue  to  which  we  pro- 
fess to  attach  so  much  importance.  There  is  much 
trickiness  and  sharp  practice  in  the  places  where 
you  get  your  daily  bread ;  you  have  seen  many 
mean  and  dirty  actions  in  business  life;  in  fact, 
to  the  honest  man  life  seems  a  continual  fight 
against  dishonesty.  One  has  to  confess  that  the 
standard  of  the  world — though,  thank  God,  it  is 
better  than  it  once  was — is  still  very  low.  You 
cannot  measure  a  man's  motives  by  what  he  says ; 
he  may  take  the  name  of  God  upon  his  lips 
though  in  his  heart  he  is  not  true.  The  issue  lies 
deeper  than  a  mere  question,  for  instance,  of  dis- 
count on  a  bill.  We  say,  after  long  acquaintance  with 
an  individual — and  as  a  rule  only  long  acquaintance 
justifies  such  statements — "So-and-so  is  a  true  man; 
I  have  proved  him."  Why  do  you  use  the  word 
"true"?  Because  you  know  something  about  that 
man,  though  it  might  not  be  considered  proof  in 
a  court  of  law.  If  you  were  asked  to  write  a 
testimonial  to  his  integrity,  you  would  say  some 
things  at  which  a  judge  or  prosecuting  lawyer 
might  laugh.  But  you  have  been  down  to  the 
depths  of  your  friend's  being,  and  you  know  he 
rings  true,  because  more  than  once  he  has  been, 
willing  to  suffer  for  truth,  the  world  not  knowing. 
It  has  been  said  of  John  Bright  that  his  sincerity 
was  proved  by  every  possible  test,  and  I  think 
that  was  true.  There  are  men  in  a  humbler  posi- 


320  INWARD  TRUTH 

don  than  that  John  Bright  of  whom  it  could  be 
said  that  they  are  true  to  the  depths ;  no  mean 
or  shabby  action  could  proceed  from  such  men, 
and  we  are  grateful  for  their  life  and  influence. 
Amongst  my  circle  of  friends  I  have  more  than 
one  whom  I  feel  to  be  true  to  the  very  core 
of  his  being — loyal,  strong,  noble,  and  good.  Such 
men  are  worth  more  to  their  country  than  untold 
gold,  for  they  help  to  make  men ;  to  be  under 
the  shadow  of  their  influence  stimulates  one  to 
the  living  of  a  nobler  life. 

On  the  other  hand,  we  know  men  who  we  feel 
are  false,  though  we  cannot  always  say  why ;  and 
here  again  our  evidence  in  a  court  of  law  would 
be  nonsuited.  There  are  men  whom  you  would 
not  trust  any  further  than  you  can  see  them ;  you 
know  somehow,  by  instinct  of  honest  judgment, 
that  these  men  would  fail  you  in  a  crisis ;  they 
could  be  depended  on  just  as  far  as  it  suited  their 
interest,  and  no  further.  Sometimes,  by  an  accident, 
the  essential  falsity  of  a  man's  nature  is  revealed. 
A  friend  told  me  that  he  once  received  from  a 
man,  with  whom  he  was  dealing  in  business,  a 
letter  to  this  effect:  "I  find  I  overcharged  you 
threepence  on  the  invoice  sent  you  yesterday. 
Please  correct  and  return."  Said  my  friend:  "I 
determined  to  watch  that  man ;  I  wanted  to  see 
whether  he  was  as  particular  about  truth  in  the 
heart  as  he  seemed  to  be  about  truth  in  the  letter." 
Sure  enough,  later  on,  the  man  found  himself  in 


INWARD  TRUTH  321 

a  corner  with  his  back  to  the  wall,  and  it  was  not 
a  question  of  pence  but  of  pounds.  That  man  in 
reality  was  a  thief  all  the  time.  When  I  was  in 
Scotland  recently  1  went  to  a  very  interesting  place, 
the  Observatory  at  Paisley.  I  there  saw  an  instru- 
ment for  measuring  earthquakes,  a  seismological 
register.  A  block  of  stone,  twenty-four  solid  feet 
in  depth,  was  thrust  into  the  earth  ;  down  and  down 
it  went,  standing  like  an  isolated  column  in  the 
vacuum  carefully  preserved  on  every  side  of  it.  On 
the  top  a  delicate  instrument  was  poised,  which 
actually  wrote  with  a  pencil  a  record  of  the  vibra- 
tions and  oscillations  that  were  taking  place  in  every 
part  of  the  globe.  Said  the  gentleman  in  charge, 
"If  an  earthquake  were  taking  place  in  Japan  its 
motion  would  be  written  here  as  faithfully  as  though 
we  were  on  the  spot  to  measure  it."  "Then  what 
about  the  rumbles  here  in  Paisley  ?  "  said  I.  "  You 
make  noise  enough  in  your  streets :  would  they  be 
registered  by  your  instrument?"  "No,"  was  the 
reply.  "  We  do  not  trouble  about  vibrations  on  the 
surface.  We  measure  from  the  depths."  That  is 
the  way  to  measure — truth  in  the  inward  parts. 

"  Truth  is  within  ourselves  ; 

It  takes  no  rise  from  outward  things, 
Whate'er  you  may  believe." 

We  do  not  measure  by  a  man's  profession,  but  by 
what  comes  from  the  depths  of  his  nature.  A  man 
who  is  as  faithful  in  the  shadow  as  in  the  light,  as 

x 


322  INWARD  TRUTH 

faithful  when  it  does  not  pay  to  be  faithful  at  the 
time  as  when  it  does — that  is  the  man  to  whom  to 
commit  your  trust ;  he  was  right  with  God  ere  he 
was  right  with  you  ;  and  if  it  came  to  be  a  question 
whether  he  should  sacrifice  you  or  truth — truth  as 
Spurgeon  understood  it — it  would  be  God  he  would 
choose,  not  you. 

"  I  could  not  love  thee,  dear,  so  much 
Loved  I  not  honour  more." 

There  is  something  more  than  trivial  sentimentality 
in  that  utterance. 

Before  I  come  to  closer  dealings,  I  would  just 
indicate  wherein  really  consists  the  greatest  value  in 
all  estimates  of  moral  character.  It  is  not  merely  a 
question  of  dealing  between  man  and  man.  If  we 
had  nothing  to  preach  about  except  iniquity,  our 
pulpit  message  would  be  a  poor  one ;  I  mean 
un-equity,  by  which  a  man  does  not  deal  straight 
with  his  fellows.  That  is  not  all,  it  is  not  the 
end,  it  is  not  really  the  beginning.  It  is  sin  with 
which  we  have  to  do — that  is,  a  man's  transgression 
against  God,  the  thing  that  hides  God  from  him. 
When  you  are  dealing  with  iniquity  you  are  really 
dealing  at  the  same  time  with  another  factor  deeper 
than  any  of  the  relations  which  a  man  holds  with 
his  fellows,  and  that  is  his  relationship  with  God. 
Perhaps  I  address  some  men  who  have  no  very  tight 
grip  upon  the  truth  that  they  have  a  relationship 
with  God ;  they  would  profess  themselves  uncertain, 


INWARD  TRUTH  323 

agnostics,  whatnot.  "  There  may  be  a  God,  there 
may  not ;  but,"  you  say,  "  I  am  trying  to  live  a 
straight  life."  I  wonder  if  you  see  how  far  your 
creed  goes.  A  straight  life — why,  that  means  that 
you  might  some  day  have  to  endure  the  whole  world 
of  humanity  shrieking  shame  upon  you,  isolating 
you,  withering  you  with  censure  and  with  sarcasm, 
with  opposition  and  abuse.  Supposing  you  stood 
alone  against  the  world,  would  you  still  try  to  live  a 
"  straight  life  ? "  In  your  heart  of  hearts  you  feel 
you  would.  Do  you  know  what  you  have  affirmed 
now  ?  You  have  affirmed  that  truth  lies  deeper  than 
human  interest  or  human  opinion ;  that  truth  is 
eternal,  and  it  comes  from  the  depths.  In  other 
words,  truth  is  God,  righteousness;  this  righteous- 
ness that  you  serve  is  the  very  nature  of  the 
All-Father.  If  a  man  is  true  to  that  in  the  heart 
of  him,  he  can  defy  the  whole  organised  universe  ; 
for  behind  all,  after  all,  God. 

It  is  from  this  deeper  truth  that  the  grandest 
achievements  of  history  have  always  sprung.  For 
that  truth  Mr  Spurgeon  would  have  gone  to  the 
stake  cheerfully.  Why  ?  Because  he  felt,  as  we 
feel,  that  in  the  long  run  and  the  last  resort  all 
humanity  must  be  sacrificed  if  need  be — I  mean 
all  friendship,  all  relation  with  it — rather  than  be 
false  to  what  we  feel  is  beneath  humanity,  greater 
than  humanity,  worthier  than  humanity — the  truth 
of  God.  "  My  soul,  be  thou  silent  unto  God." 
*'  Create  in  me  a  clean  heart,  O  God ;  and  renew 


324 


INWARD  TRUTH 


a  right  spirit  within  me."  "Against  Thee,  Thee 
only,  have  I  sinned,  and  done  this  evil  in  Thy 
sight." 

The  Psalmist  gauged  accurately  and  described 
our  own  experience  when  he  uttered  those  words. 
It  is  with  God,  when  we  come  to  real  dealings  with 
truth,  that  you  and  I  hold  relation.  Perhaps  I 
address  a  man  who  is  right  with  the  rest  of 
humanity,  but  wrong  with  this  mysterious  entity  of 
which  I  have  spoken.  To  illustrate.  Suppose  Adolf 
Beck,  of  whom  we  have  been  hearing  so  much,  were 
really  guilty;  suppose — as  I  doubt  not  some  in- 
fatuated officials  will  insist — the  crimes  for  which 
he  was  punished  had  been  really  committed  by  him ; 
how  would  he  feel  to-day  with  the  whole  country 
ringing  with  indignation  on  his  behalf?  Would 
you  change  places  with  him  ?  If,  as  you  walked  the 
streets,  conscious  of  your  guilt,  honest  men  grasped 
your  hands  and  uttered  words  of  pity  and  admira- 
tion, I  think  that  before  the  week  was  out  you  would 
want  to  put  an  end  to  your  life.  Suppose  I  address 
a  man  whose  experience  has  been  anything  like  that : 
you  managed  to  vindicate  yourself  once  when  you 
knew  that  in  the  depths  of  you  you  were  not  true  ;  it 
was  the  eternal  right  you  had  offended ;  with  the 
eternal  God  you  had  yet  something  to  do.  Can 
you  remember  your  waking  thought  in  the  morning 
after  you  had  dreamed  that  your  guilty  act  had  never 
been  committed,  the  awful  voice  that  sounded  in 
your  heart,  the  voice  that  David  heard,  "  Thou  art 


INWARD  TRUTH  325 

the  man !  "  You  may  deceive  the  whole  world,  but 
you  cannot  deceive  that  deeper  self  which  is  one  with 
God.  "  Against  Thee  have  I  sinned.  .  .  .  Thou 
desirest  truth  in  the  inward  parts." 

One  word  more  of  application.  If  I  address  a  man 
of  double  life,  a  man  with  something  evil  huddled  out 
of  sight,  I  would  like  to  speak  to  him,  not  a  word  of 
threatening  denunciation,  but  of  pity  and  pleading. 
That  thing  you  are  seeking  to  bury,  that  putrifying 
corpse,  will  come  to  light  some  day,  like  Eugene 
Aram's  victim.  It  is  showing  itself  now  in  all  its 
hideousness  to  Him  whom  no  evil  can  deceive.  If 
your  life  is  a  lie,  it  would  pay  you  better — I  an- 
nounce no  penalty — to  get  right  with  the  truth, 
however  much  it  may  scorch  you,  than  to  persist  in 
the  lie  that  seems  to  screen  you.  There  is  a  true 
reserve.  Very  few  men  will  confess  anything  but 
surface  stories  about  their  lives  ;  as  a  rule  they  do 
not  tell  all  the  truth.  Why  should  they?  It  all 
depends  just  what  it  is  a  man  is  keeping  from  the 
gaze  of  his  fellows.  If  that  which  you  are  huddling 
away  is  something  by  which  you  are  injuring  another 
or  the  community,  out  with  it.  Pretence  is  not  the 
just  reserve  that  belongs  to  such  men  as  John  Knox 
and  John  Bright,  men  who  are  right  with  God  and 
can  afford  to  be  silent  with  their  fellows  ;  what  you 
are  keeping  away  is  just  that  which  God  is  showing 
forth  in  the  terrible  light  of  the  world  of  spirit ;  it 
is  all  already  known. 

What  about  the  man  who  is  deceiving  the  people 


326  INWARD  TRUTH 

to  whom  he  owes  most  in  the  world?  Husband, 
what  about  that  faithful  little  woman  at  home  whom 
you  are  deceiving  every  day  of  your  life  ?  Young 
man,  new  to  the  great  city,  but  old  in  its  evils,  what 
about  those  people  in  the  village  from  which  you 
came,  who  are  telling  tales  of  pride  about  you — that 
are  all  false,  only  they  do  not  know  it?  What 
about  those  who  are  praising  you  for  virtues  you  do 
not  possess  and  for  courses  of  action  you  have  never 
taken  ?  What  of  those  who  denounce  in  your 
presence  vices  of  others  that  are  not  so  dark  as 
yours  ?  What  of  those  who  hold  you  up  as  pattern 
and  example,  when  you  are  the  very  opposite  ?  Oh, 
hideous  travesty  of  life !  Can  any  man  endure  to 
live  it?  Truly  the  way  of  transgressors  is  hard, 
because  it  is  a  false  thing.  The  truth  and  the  truth 
only  will  make  a  man  at  peace  with  himself.  If  there 
is  any  vestige  or  shadow  of  truth  left  in  you,  any 
real  manhood,  you  will  be  ashamed  of  being  credited 
with  merits  that  are  not.  yours.  But  if  you  have 
ceased  to  feel,  then  you  are  sleeping  the  sleep  of 
death.  The  very  agony  and  shame  which  you  feel 
when  the  truth  is  revealed  is  evidence  that  truth 
within  you  is  not  dead.  What  about  that  young 
fellow  becoming  entangled — it  may  be  for  the  first 
time,  and  conscience  gnawing  at  him  all  the  while — 
in  devious  ways,  keeping  company  he  dare  not  con- 
fess, conforming  to  practices  that  he  knows  to  be 
shameful  and  bad?  You  are  a  miserable  wretch — 
you  do  not  need  anybody  to  tell  you  that.  But  in 


INWARD  TRUTH  327 

time  you  will  become  callous  and  hardened ;  the 
voice  that  now  speaks  within  you  will  be  stilled  ;  you 
have  Truth  down,  as  it  were,  helpless  and  at  your 
mercy :  you  are  throttling  her,  and  by  the  time  you 
have  slain  that  heavenly  guest  you  will  find  that  you 
yourself  were  the  victim,  the  helpless  victim,  of  a 
ghastly  sham  that  stands  for  you — that  of  wrong,  of 
shame,  of  evil.  You  are  a  slow  murderer.  "  He 
that  sinneth  against  Me  wrongeth  his  own  soul." 
The  conscience  of  David  slumbered  for  a  while ; 
so  may  yours,  but  only  for  a  while.  There  was 
another  voice  that  spoke  through  Nathan  the  prophet, 
the  voice  of  the  eternal  right,  that  never  can  be  stilled. 
You  may  stifle  the  voice  of  conscience,  but  the  voice 
of  God  will  speak  again  in  time  or  in  eternity.  "  Thou 
art  the  man !  " 

Make  terms  with  righteousness  even  now ;  get 
right  with  God  at  this  moment,  cost  what  it  may. 
Turn  round  upon  evil  living  if  you  have  become  its 
victim.  I  care  not  what  the  price  may  be,  it  is  worth 
while.  There  is  a  way  out  of  every  moral  entangle- 
ment and  of  every  moral  abyss.  I  have  hardly  named 
the  name  of  Christ  in  this  sermon ;  but  any  man  who 
sees  the  form  of  Christ  before  his  eyes,  when  he 
thinks  about  the  facts  which  I  have  just  set  before 
you,  sees  the  answer  to  his  prayer.  "  Whither  shall 
I  go  from  Thy  spirit  ?  or  whither  shall  I  flee  from 
Thy  presence?  If  I  ascend  up  into  heaven,  Thou 
art  there ;  if  I  make  my  bed  in  hell,  behold,  Thou 
art  there."  Whither  shall  I  go  ?  Here  is  the  way 


328  INWARD  TRUTH 

and  the  truth  and  the  life.  If  we  confess  our  sins 
He  is  faithful  and  just  to  forgive  us  our  sins,  and 
to  cleanse  us  from  all  unrighteousness.  If  we  say 
we  have  no  sin,  we  make  Him  a  liar,  and  the  truth 
is  not  in  us. 


000  053  363 


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